


Don't Tell Sammy

by MurderousQueen



Series: Don't Tell Sammy [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anti-Climax, Bottom Dean, Christmas Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester cooking, Dean has a Panty Kink, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel is canon y'all, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Domestic destiel, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends With Benefits, Haunted apartment building, Ho ho ho bitches, M/M, Pretend Relationship, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural Season Nine, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Yes - clock the comments - the burn is incredibly ... /slow/, canon-verse, homophobic ... angel? the fuck?, homophobic ... witch?, homophobic ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-12 10:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 241,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7931563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MurderousQueen/pseuds/MurderousQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are some things you just don't tell your overly nosy, teasing brother, and pretending to date your best friend in the face of a homophobic ghost is one of them.  Of course, that just brings about a whole new number of other things you won't be telling him either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Need You to Pretend to be My Boyfriend (Introduction)

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Polski available: [Nie mów Sammy'emu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8603614) by [Seranthi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seranthi/pseuds/Seranthi)



> This is set during season nine, a week after the events of episode six. This and my other fic Run linked on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/5425811/chapters/12536978 Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/195736034-chapter-1-run-part-one and Fanfiction.net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11668078/1/Run don’t exist simultaneously. Both set in the universe of the show, both fictions completely unrelated.
> 
> Also, in this fic, it's implied Dean and Castiel spent a lot more time together off screen than we really see, and random mentions of these hang out sessions will be mentioned and it will be easy to see in the seemingly ease of their relationship.

‘I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.’

The ex-angel in the blue vest looked away from his customer, frowning, and his eyes landed on Dean. Dean didn’t want to say they lit up, exactly, although Castiel defiantly looked happier than he had when he was serving the very small old lady holding a lottery ticket directly in front of him.

‘I’m working,’ Castiel informed him, as if he were just any other customer. ‘You’ll need to get in line.’

‘Seriously?’

Cas’s face was unyielding. Dean sighed, and walked to stand behind the man who was next in line after the old woman being served.

‘That’s two fifty,’ Castiel requested, and went fishing for change after the woman handed him a five dollar note. Dean couldn’t help but shudder internally at the fact that Castiel, angel of the lord, the most powerful being he knew, was working behind a counter serving old ladies, and men that smelled weird.

‘I’d take that young man up on his offer,’ the old lady whispered, not particularly quietly. ‘Goodness knows if I were your age I’d, well … that’s best not said out loud, dear.’

‘Good luck, Mrs Guyer,’ Castiel replied with a hint of a smile, as who Dean assumed was likely a regular customer shuffled away.

Dean waited, somewhat impatiently and uncomfortably as Cas took money from the weird smelling man for the gas he’d bought outside, then finally it was Dean’s turn.

‘I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend,’ he repeated.

‘Technically, to be at this counter, you need to buy something.’

Dean grabbed a candy bar and slammed it down on the counter with a dollar on top of it.

‘I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.’

‘Why do you keep saying that?’

‘ _Because_ , I need you to pretend to be–’

‘I heard you the first three times,’ Castiel interrupted him, taking the dollar and dropping a quarter of change on top of the chocolate bar. ‘But I’m working.’

‘I didn’t mean right _now_ ,’ Dean stressed. He dropped his change in his pocket, and ripped the bar open, breaking it in half. ‘I mean, can we talk? Because I need your help.’

‘My shift ends at three,’ Castiel informed him, watching as he put the half of the bar he’d broken off into his mouth whole, chewed, and swallowed. ‘We can talk then.’

‘Right,’ Dean nodded, very understanding, then looked around him for a pen. He found one and picked it up, put another dollar on the counter, then grabbed Cas’s uninjured arm. He was glad to see Cas’s other arm seemed to be healing well, a support bandage still on his wrist, but he was moving it freely.

Dean wrote the address of the motel he was staying in on the back of Cas’s hand, plus his room number, plus the number of a cab company.

‘Meet me there,’ he insisted, as Cas surveyed the writing on his hand, plus Dean. He attempted to decipher the odd behavior, the outrageous request, but couldn’t. Last week they’d had one good night post-hunt with pizza and wrist-caring-for and good talking, but he didn’t see how that one good night could make Dean act so … like this, whatever this was.

‘I’ll be there,’ Castiel promised.

Dean put the rest of his chocolate bar still in the wrapper by the dollar he’d paid for the pen, then but a ten dollar note beside it.

‘For the cab,’ he said. ‘And you can have the rest of that bar. See you later, pal.’

Dean walked backwards a few steps, saluting as he went, then turned on his heel and exited the store. Castiel couldn’t help but think he seemed to be in an awfully and unusually good mood.

‘Who was that?’ his co-worker, Nora, asked him, as he pocketed the ten and the bar for later and slid the dollar for the pen into the till.

‘A friend of mine,’ Castiel replied, still frowning at the door Dean had exited through while he answered her.

‘A friend friend or a … _friend_?’

‘Just a friend,’ Castiel replied, catching her implication. He’d been getting better at noticing things like that of late.

‘He’s pretty,’ Nora commented, moving behind him to refill the slushy machine.

‘Is he?’ Castiel asked, eyebrows raised as he glanced at her. ‘I’ve never really noticed,’ he lied and then, sighing, the light gone from his eyes again, he turned to serve his next customer.


	2. Just Go With It

Dean pulled the door of his motel room open as soon as Castiel knocked.

‘Cas,’ he grinned in greeting, clapping the other man on the shoulder as he ushered him in and closed the door behind him. ‘Good day?’ he asked, gesturing for him to sit down in one of the chairs by the window in the small, slightly damp smelling room.

‘It was relatively uneventful,’ Castiel shrugged, not seeming like he cared very much about it at all. ‘I dropped a slushy on my foot. I’ve had an uncomfortably wet sock for twenty minutes.’

‘I got a pair you can borrow,’ said Dean, while Cas sat watching him, and got up to go through a bag that was on one of two beds in the room. He tossed a rolled up pair to Cas, went to the mini fridge and pulled out two cokes. He returned to the table by the window, slid one over to Cas as he sat looking at the socks, and sat across from him. ‘Go ahead, put ’em on.’

Castiel frowned, continuing to watch Dean as he kicked off his shoes. Dean sat watching him, their eye contact unbroken, unspeaking. Clearly, he was waiting for Cas to speak first.

‘So you wanted to talk to me?’ he asked, referring to when Dean had entered the store earlier and confused the hell out of him with his good mood and his odd request. ‘Something about pretending to be … your boyfriend?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ Dean nodded.

Castiel broke the eye contact to remove his socks and he placed them on the floor by his shoes. He spoke as he dried off his foot with his one dry sock, then began putting on the borrowed socks Dean had given him.

‘Is this about what you told me last week?’ Castiel asked, slipping in little glances at Dean when he could throughout his sock-putting-on activity. ‘Because if you, I don’t know, want to tell Sam about it by having a fake relationship with someone of your own gender, I don’t think that’s the way to do it.’

Dean raised his eyebrows as he caught when Cas was saying and his heart rate accelerated automatically as he watched Cas pick up one of his shoes, presumably the wet one, and dry it out with one of his discarded socks, presumably the dry one.

‘No – it’s about the, uh … the _bi_ thing,’ Dean assured him quickly. He still struggled to say the b-word out loud, especially in front of another person, since Cas was the only one who knew apart from a handful of long-gone guys from his past.

He remembered accidentally getting into it as he’d tended to Cas’s wound and carefully, as gently as he could, wrapped his wrist in a bandage.

‘So are you upset at all about it not being, y’know … a date?’ Dean had asked carefully, in a room in another motel closer to the house where they’d babysat, killed an angel, so on.

‘Not … particularly,’ Castiel had responded. ‘Nora is a nice woman. She’s always kind to me, so when I accepted the offer of what I thought was a date I accepted to be nice and because I assumed that’s what humans are supposed to do. Isn’t it?’

‘Well it’s not what you’re _supposed_ to do,’ Dean explained, tying the bandage in place with feather light touches, and placing Cas’s hand down to get something that would support it more. ‘There’s no rules to this whole … human thing. You do what you want to do. So if a girl asks you out and she’s nice and pretty and you like her … you either go or you don’t. Do what you wanna do. For future reference.’

Dean worked on Cas’s arm again, wincing internally when Cas flinched slightly. He wanted to apologize – but Cas was trying very hard not to let any pain show through his mask of a face, so he pretended he hadn’t noticed and made note to be more careful.

‘She is pretty,’ Castiel confirmed, staying very still. ‘And she is nice. And I do like her, but … I’m not sure I like her in the way you’re referring to.’

‘No?’ Dean asked. Castiel shook his head. ‘Well, there’s nothing wrong with that – you’re all done here, buddy. Drink? The pizza should be here soon.’

Dean stood up and Castiel inspected how he was patched up. Dean had done a good job, and the pain was fading to a dull ache now he was secured in whatever the thing was Dean had put on him. With his uninjured hand, Castiel accepted the beer Dean handed him, already open.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel replied, and took a drink. He sighed, glancing at Dean who had reclaimed his seat next to him on the bed. There were chairs in the room, but they hadn’t bothered to move to them. The first aid kit was still open to their side. He sighed, feeling slight nerves about what he was considering saying, wondering if he would sound stupid, or if Dean would even care.

‘Something you your mind?’ Dean asked, seeming to sense Cas’s hesitation.

‘It’s just …’ Castiel sighed again. He seemed to be doing that a lot tonight. He wasn’t sure why this was so difficult for him to say. ‘These days I’ve noticed I don’t really … _like_ any women. They don’t seem to spark my interest like they do for you, unless they approach me _first_ , then I just feel obligated to do what they seem to want from me.’

Dean took a drink. Castiel watched him seem to consider the words, nodding as if he understood, not as if he thought Cas was crazy or abnormal or something. Dean put his beer down on the night stand by the bed, folded his arms and surveyed Castiel’s discomfort. Automatically, he reached out and placed a hand on Cas’s shoulder, something Cas had done to him many times, and felt Cas tense beneath him.

‘Hey, man,’ he said, trying to sound as easy and casual as possible. ‘Not everyone is interested in women. Some people like women, some people like men, some people like both or even more or whatever Sam said. Something about pans.’

Castiel squinted in confusion at the “pans” comment, but didn’t ask. Instead, he pursued a follow up on another part of what Dean had said.

‘You can like more than just one or the other?’ he asked, tilting his head to the side while Dean’s hand slid from his shoulder to rest on the bed. ‘It’s not just … heterosexual or homosexual?’

‘Dude, no,’ Dean told him, shaking his head. ‘There’s those two, yeah. And there’s bisexual – that means two. And Sam was talking about more one time but I wasn’t listening because he had a piece of lettuce stuck in his hair and I was wondering when he’d notice.’

Castiel laughed, looking at the floor. He exhaled, took a drink, and continued.

‘I’ve always thought there was just two,’ he admitted, though Dean probably already had guessed that.

‘Believe me, there’s not,’ Dean assured, then cleared his throat, seeming to hesitate before his next question. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, is there anything you are, like, into? Like … men, or something else like … I don’t know, drag queens or something?’

‘What’s a drag queen?’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ Dean muttered, shaking his head, thinking he should have known better to talk about something Castiel was likely to never have heart of.

‘To answer your question,’ said Castiel, ‘I’ve never thought about it. I’m indifferent to sexual orientation, but I’ve never dwelled on the matter of my own or even anyone else’s. I just … accept what I see. You and women. Sam and his failed attempts with women. The two men who sometimes come into the store holding hands and talking closely. I watch but I don’t … dwell.’

‘Understandable,’ Dean nodded. ‘And I like that you’re just … indifferent. A lot of people are assholes man. They say being gay is like … a crime. Or being bi just … isn’t a thing. I had a guy say that to me once like ten years ago, and –’

Dean stopped talking at once. His heart started to pound so loudly Cas could probably hear it, and any minute now it would jump out of his chest and through the ceiling. He fucked up. He was trying to give Cas some casual information, and he fucked up. He chanced a glance at Cas, who was looking at him curiously.

‘I didn’t mean to say that.’

‘It’s alright,’ Castiel promised him, then mirroring Dean’s actions from earlier, put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Well, the thing _attached_ to his hand, that was. It was his only free hand, and it was wrapped up. He spoke as gently as Dean’s hands had moved when he was wrapping up said hand. ‘Dean … I don’t want to overstep any boundaries but … are you …?’

‘No,’ Dean denied quickly. Castiel removed his hand. He saw Cas turn away from him, looking like he felt guilty for even asking. And then Dean felt guilty for making Cas feel guilty, so he took a deep breath and whispered, ‘yes.’

One slip up had been the start of one of the most open nights he’d ever had and he discovered he’d been stupid to ever think that he couldn’t be as open as he wanted with Cas. A few words exchanged, a promise that Castiel wouldn’t tell anyone, not even Sam, and Dean was feeling relaxed by the time the pizza came. Then that night he’d slept sitting in one chair with his legs across on the other, insisting Castiel take the bed, he dropped him off at work the next morning and hadn’t seen him in a week.

Until now. 

‘Okay,’ Castiel said carefully, lowering his shoes and slipping his feet back into them, ‘then why the unusual request?’

‘Because of this.’

Dean nudged something across the table to Cas as Cas opened his coke, acknowledging it for the first time. Once the coke was open he used the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the can to pull the folder closer to him. He flipped it open and pulled out the first page, and stayed reading for a while. It was a series of articles, some clipped from newspapers and some printed from websites, about a series of murders in one apartment building which for some stupid reason wasn’t vacated yet. It was an apartment building in West Hollywood, which was exclusive to LGBT+ people only, mostly lived in by same sex couples and transgender people, according to the articles. At first Cas wondered what these articles had to do with anything, but then he noticed an odd pattern with each murder.

Victims were all in their apartments. No sign of a break in, no DNA trails, all killed by asphyxiation but there were no signs of how the asphyxiation came about. And in just one article there was a mention of goo at the scene of the crime that couldn’t be identified.

‘You think … these are ghost attacks,’ Castiel said slowly, not quite sure of himself.

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, confirming it. ‘And you and me are going to hunt this thing.’

‘… By posing as a couple.’

‘Exactly.’

‘But Dean, you’ve said before I’m a terrible hunter,’ Castiel reminded him, looking almost ashamed as he said it. ‘There must be someone better.’

‘Better hunters? I know a few,’ Dean told him, nodding. ‘Better for me to work with? No. Besides, last week you did awesome. Bet you could do that again.’

Castiel frowned at the table as if it were what was confusing him. Dean was asking him to … work on a case with him. Alone, in West Hollywood he presumed, for who knew how long. There was a month to a month and a half between each victim or pair of victims here, and the last was five days ago.

‘Why me?’ Castiel asked.

‘I trust you not to make it … weird,’ Dean admitted. ‘I thought at first it would be weird when  first told you, and I knew Sam would give me shit for it, so I deiced if I didn’t _let_ it be weird and didn’t _tell_ Sam it was you, then … it’d be … better? But if you don’t want to, that’s cool too.’

‘No,’ Castiel insisted quickly. ‘No, I’d like to help you. I would be completely respectful of any rules or boundaries, do whatever you need me to and I won’t tell Sam anything. Who does he think you’re doing it with?’

‘I told him I was doing it with a random hunter I met once that he doesn’t know,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So you’re in?’

‘I’m in,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘What’s the situation? Or what’s going to happen now?’

‘Well …’ Dean started, somewhat guiltily, ‘you’ll need to quit your job. Or take a leave – but if you decide to quit I could, y’know, come up here every week and give you money to stay in a motel and buy food and whatever. Until you get back on your feet or … wings or whatever.’

‘I can agree to that,’ Castiel nodded, looking to Dean completely on board.

‘Great, so …’

Dean got to his feet and looked through one of his bags, pulling out another folder of papers. He pushed the case folder away, dragged his chair over next to Cas, and proceeded to go through the plan.

He and Sam had spent three days preparing. They’d obtained several thousand dollars – not exactly legally, but it was for a good cause – and several credit cards to use to get by for however long they needed. They had several reviews written by Sam at different phone numbers, all referring to “Mr Winchester and his partner” so Sam wouldn’t find out who Dean was doing this with, and every review was good, but believable. Their cover story was set up too – they were two professional writers (which would explain them being home most of the time, and their research were they to conduct any and be noticed doing it) and they weren’t married, but Castel had chosen to use Dean’s last name, legally changing at two years into their relationship because he disliked his own and refused to disclose what it was.

‘And I got us these fancy outfits and fake glasses,’ Dean said lastly, pulling the very formal outfits out of his bag, still with their tags on and everything. ‘We go today in these clothes to take pictures for fake IDs, like driver’s licenses and passports and everything, but before that we’ve got an appointment with a photographer to take some pictures in front of a green screen so we look more … like a real couple who do stuff. We’ll frame a few and say that they’re from a book signing. In Canada. Because we’re saying you’re Canadian, and people usually won’t ask questions if you say you work in Canada.’

‘You’re extremely … thorough,’ Castiel commented, examining the sweater vest Dean had handed him. He decided he liked it.

‘Sam’s not the only smart one,’ Dean said proudly, a satisfied little grin on his face. ‘But he was smart enough to make up a fake book we co-authored. He stole a bunch of text from different places on the internet, changed some names, did about ten hours of writing himself, and here it is. We wrote a gay horror novel because we’re gay and like horror.’

The cover featured two woman holding large guns and several shadowy, spooky figures. It was called “What Goes Bump in the Night” and, Castiel realized as he flicked through it, was a real book. Short, only one hundred or so pages, but real. He could easily pinpoint things Sam wrote – influences from past cases he’d heard about screamed at him from the pages. And, where the writing style changed and things became unfamiliar, he saw horror stories taken from the darkest depths of the internet.

‘Genius,’ Castiel muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘The two of you don’t get enough credit for how much work you put into your cover stories for cases.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Dean shrugged, taking something out of a small case in his bag, ‘it’s the downside to the job. Now,’ he said, sliding fake glasses with plastic instead of glass onto an unexpecting Cas’s face, ‘go put on the clothes I got for you, writing man. They should fit, I sort of just … guessed your size. There’s shoes too, in that box there.’

Castiel frowned at him, but picked up the clothes and headed towards the closed bathroom door. As soon as it had shut behind him, Dean let out a sigh of relief. Keeping so calm and casual was a struggle. If Sam were here, every instinct would be screaming at him to get angry and defensive and make things uncomfortable, awkward and laced with discontent. But with Cas, he guessed, he could just … go with it. He knew Cas wasn’t Sam and wouldn’t be bothered to tease or judge him for anything they had to do or say. He knew it, still, it was hard to remain as calm as he hoped he was coming off. He’d done so much preparation because he didn’t want to come off as too eager – he was _not_ eager – but he didn’t want to be unprepared.

Yes, Castiel was the safest thing he could think of in this predicament, and he trusted Cas enough to do anything they needed, while Sam was safely none the wiser. He didn’t even want to think about the teasing he’d endure if Sam knew – frankly, he got enough teasing without this. He did _not_ have a thing for Cas, no matter how many times Sam had poked fun at that subject over the years with his ‘Cas looks good today, doesn’t he?’s and his ‘so Cas had sex … what were you doing at that time, Dean?’ and all of the other ridiculous comments he’d been experiencing since he first _met_ the guy. He most certainly would never forget the, ‘are you sure this Castiel guy you’re always talking about is an angel and not just your secret boyfriend?’ and the years and years of jibes that would lead to.

Dean. Did not. Have a thing. For Cas.

Screw Sam and his stupid fucking jokes.

Think of the devil, Dean’s phone buzzed, and it was Sam asking how things we going.

_Good. Me and J headed out to get pics taken soon, leaving for WH tomorrow_

“J” was the name he’d given the mysterious hunter. He’d come up with it from the term “John Doe.”

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked, making Dean whip around to see him at the bathroom door, looking very … dapper.

The light blue shirt made of silk-like material brought out the blue of his eyes, not that Dean was _looking_ at his eyes. They just stood out – there were very blue. And Dean liked the color blue … not because of Cas or anything, but because the sky was blue and the ocean was blue and there was one annoyingly catchy song that went “I’m blue da-ba-dee-da-bah-die” that he may or may not have once thought went “I’m blue and I’m in need of a guy.”

The tie and the pants were the same color; beige, the tie made of the same material as the shirt. And the black sweater vest fit him well. Quite well, in fact. Dean was proud of himself for getting suck an exact size. He’d gotten a size smaller than his own size in everything but the shirt – Cas was slimmer than he was, but he didn’t trust the material of the shirt enough not to rip if it was too small, and Cas’s arms very muscular. Not something he was looking at, just a fact.

‘Do the shoes fit?’ Dean asked, glancing down at Cas’s feet, bigger than his, by about one size he guessed.

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered. ‘Very well. Thank you.’

Cas smiled a hint of a smile and Dean’s stomach did a summer sault, totally because he was happy he’d done a good job. Cas was also wearing the glasses Dean had slipped onto him (‘glasses make you look smart, Dean. It’s a fact,’ Sam had said) and he looked … well, he looked about as dorky as he was – the dorkiness being a good thing.

‘Great,’ said Dean, attempting a steady smile. ‘Just give me a minute.’

Dean grabbed his own outfit and disappeared into the bathroom. Castiel looked at the closed door for a moment, then down at himself again. He’d looked at himself a lot in the mirror, but he surveyed himself from a downwards point of view this time, until he felt his glasses slipping down his nose. He pushed them up and returned to the table, sitting down, feeling an odd urge to fidget. To give his hands something to do, he picked up the rest of his coke and started sipping.

He was still sipping when Dean stepped out looking … smart. It’s not that he hadn’t looked smart before, he looped pretty smart in his FBI suits, but this was … different. He’d done his hair slightly differently. He was wearing similar, but not identical, glasses to the ones he’d given Cas. Cas was pretty sure the two of them were wearing the same shoes, too. The black jacket lying on the bed that Dean slipped on matched the black dress pants he was also wearing, and the jacket slipped on over a white shirt with three buttons undone, and no tie.

‘You …’ Castiel started, lowering his can, not quite knowing why he felt a strange fluttering in his stomach regain, ‘look … different.’

‘Speak for yourself,’ Dean replied with an accompanying half laugh and lame gesture. ‘So … are you ready to go stand in front of a camera?’

‘Uh … one second.’

Dean watched in amusement as Castiel downed the rest of his drink in one, placed the can down and stood up. He walked over to Dean’s side and Dean smiled at him. It was odd, Castiel noticed, that Dean didn’t often smile much, but last week and today he’d been smiling much more. Maybe he enjoyed these kinds of easier cases … well cases that were easier than ones involving endless demons and rouge angels that was, if they could be called easier.

Castiel followed Dean out to the Impala and got into the passenger’s side. For some reason he felt the need to … sit unusually carefully, just in case something happened to his smart clothing. He felt unusually stiff and glanced at Dean in the driver’s seat and noticed he didn’t seem to be worried about the same thing, so he attempted to relax. He probably just had to get used to the new clothes. He’d worn the same thing for years, and for the past while he’d been wearing nothing but his work uniform, so it would be a slight adjustment to get comfortable.

‘When are we leaving to go to the location of the case?’ Castiel asked, watching Dean’s motions as he pulled out of where he was parked and headed towards the road. He wondered if Dean would teach him to drive if he asked; it’s not like he had his wings anymore, and he’d need _some_ way to get around, at least after he and Dean had finished up on this case. Then again, even if he knew how to drive, he’d still need a car.

Who knew where he’d get one of those from?

‘I was thinking tomorrow morning, mid-afternoon at the latest,’ Dean told him, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘We have another appointment with this photographer guy in the morning to pick out our pictures and collect ’em, then we get going, arrive in WeHo a little after midnight.’

‘… WeHo?’

‘West Hollywood.’

‘Right. So it’s a long drive?’

‘Thirteen hours, if traffic is good,’ Dean nodded. ‘Then we can check into a motel so we’ll be fresh the next morning for the interview.’

‘Interview?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Just answering some questions about why we want to move in, show our references. Nothing to worry about.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Positive,’ Dean promised. ‘It’ll be easy. Just follow my lead, make some references to how much being a writer sucks, we’ll have our deposit down and our keys in no time.’

‘If you say so,’ Castiel muttered, turning to look out of the window and lapsing into silence for the rest of the journey.

The arrived outside an average looking house some minutes later and Dean parked next to the sidewalk. Castiel got out of the car shortly after Dean did, joining him by the passenger’s door which was the side that faced the house and looked at him expectantly. He wasn’t exactly sure of what to do in these situations.

‘Is this it?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean confirmed. ‘Independent photographer. Sam found him online. He works from home, I’m not sure what the setup is, but apparently he’s pretty good.’

Castiel nodded, looking towards the house. A slight air of awkwardness was attempting to creep in, but it kept being pushed back by the fact that there shouldn’t be any awkwardness to infiltrate the situation in the first place. They were going to be completely professional about this – they were, after all, professional hunters (or at least Dean was) pretending to be professional writers who happened to be a couple. No big deal.

‘Does he – the photographer – does he think –?’

‘That we’re …? Yeah. But … don’t worry about it. He thinks we’re shooting a book cover and some pictures for a biography Sam’s writing about us. So just … play it cool. Come on.’

Dean gestured towards the house, and the two of them headed towards it.

‘How did you know I would agree to help you with this?’ Castiel asked, frowning slightly, watching Dean at his side. Dean who seemed to be having no trouble with this, where Castiel was wary of accidentally overstepping boundaries which he felt as though he might have done in the past. The whole issue of personal space and upfront questions he was compelled to ask Dean, but for some reason not compelled to ask anyone else.

‘Because I know you,’ Dean told him matter-of-factly. ‘You always want to help out. You’re a good guy, Cas.’

Castiel felt a smile tugging the corner of his mouth upwards.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ he replied sincerely. ‘And you must know by now I think the same of you.’

The compliment from Cas almost made Dean stop in his tracks, but he forced his feet to keep moving and his smile to stay relatively small and controlled as he clapped on the shoulder with an accompanying ‘thanks, buddy,’ and just for show, he kept the hand there when they reached and knocked on the door.

Castiel felt stiff beneath his hand. Dean wished he would relax, or at least _try_ to. Or maybe it was Dean’s hand that was stiff on Cas’s shoulder. He tried to make the gesture seem as natural as possible, it wasn’t as though they hadn’t done the shoulder touching thing before, as they waited for the door to be answered.

They heard footsteps approaching the door before it was opened by a smiling twenty-something with dark curls, dark eyes and extremely pale looking skin despite its darker tone. He looked like he spent a lot of time indoors, yet he still looked friendly.

‘Dean Winchester,’ he greeted, assuming.

‘Yes,’ Dean confirmed, nodding and shaking the man’s hand, ‘and this is Castiel.’

‘Or Cas,’ Castiel chipped in, also shaking the hand of the stranger. ‘It’s a shortened version of my name. Dean came up with it.’

‘Pleasure to meet you both,’ the stranger said stepping back and gesturing for them to go inside. ‘I’m Robert Ruiz, if you’d like to follow me we can get started – I was told you’d like to get this done as quickly as possible?’

‘That’d be best,’ Dean agreed, making a mental note to thank Sam again for setting everything up over the phone. ‘Do I pay you before or after?’

‘Tomorrow,’ Robert Ruiz told him. ‘When you collect them. You pay for the six you choose.’

‘Right, sounds reasonable,’ Dean nodded, turning to Cas for his opinion, ‘right?’

Castiel raised his eyebrows, not having expected to be asked for his opinion.

‘Right,’ he agreed, catching on. This guy thought they were … a thing, and of course, people who were part of a … thing tended to confirm things with each other since it usually affected both of them. Right.

The room they were shown into was clearly a living room, but all of the furniture was pushed back towards three of the walls, the fourth wall and part of the floor in front of it covered completely by a green sheet, which worked as the green screen, and there were several different cameras on a table nearby.

‘Is this your first photoshoot?’ Robert asked them, gesturing for them to stand in front of the green screen.

‘Yeah, this is the first one,’ Dean told him. He still had his hand on Cas’s shoulder and decided, now, to drop it. ‘What do you need us to do?’

‘Take a step to your … left,’ Robert decided, ‘and just act natural. We can try out a few different poses.’

It was a little uncomfortable at first, but they soon got the hang of it. They were able to take direction well and there were a number of different poses tried out. There were ones where they had to look at each other, at the camera, go back to back, have one look at the other while the other wasn’t looking, which were all very simple. The ones that caused nerves to shoot up and down arms or zap around shoulders were, well, ones where there were arms around shoulders, or hands near each others’ backs – they hovered, since the camera couldn’t catch that, and moved on quickly. Thankfully, no poses that were asked of them were too … coupley, as they hadn’t exactly discussed what they were and weren’t willing to do yet.

They weren’t there for long. All they needed was six pictures which they’d pick from the bunch tomorrow, so the session lasted an easy twenty minutes and they parted with handshakes and confirmation of tomorrow morning’s early appointment time, extra pay because of the rush, general goodbyes and being shown to the door.

They didn’t speak until they got to the car, starting with Castiel asking, ‘what now?’

‘Now,’ said Dean, removing his glasses now they didn’t need to look as smart, ‘we go make the fake IDs. Those pictures are easier to take.’

‘I remember,’ Castiel told him, mimicking his actions and removing his glasses, which he placed in his pocket as he’d seen Dean to. ‘I still have that ID, if I ever need to use it again.’

‘Good,’ said Dean, ‘that’s good. I didn’t expect you to still have that.’

‘Well, I do.’

Dean raised his eyebrows but didn’t comment on it again, instead concentrating on driving.        

The making of the fake IDs was much easier and involved less moving and smiling and looking at each other in a way that was probably very weird and would make looking at those finished pictures a highly uncomfortable experience. Dean seemed to know a way to make or get whatever they needed no matter where they were, and soon enough they were headed back to the motel with their IDs safely with them. Castiel looked from his passport to his driver’s license several times, thinking it was ironic that he had a license but couldn’t drive. He looked at the name on both, _Castiel Winchester_ , for some reason finding satisfaction in it.

‘I’ll teach you, if you want,’ said Dean, noting Cas looking at the license again.

‘What?’

The thought had left Cas’s mind as quickly as it had come, the name distracting him instead, but he managed to realize what Dean had meant before Dean had to explain.

‘To drive,’ Dean told him. ‘Knowing how could come in handy considering … your situation.’

He didn’t want to say _considering you’re not an angel anymore_ , but it was obvious that’s what he’d meant. Castiel looked at him, a grateful smile appearing.

‘I’d appreciate that,’ he replied thankfully.

‘Right. Lesson one …’

They spent the rest of the journey to the motel going over the basics. Dean pointed out everything on the dashboard and told him how it worked, then had Cas recite as much of it as he’d picked up back to him. They went back and forth a few times with the verbal exchange of information until they reached their destination, Dean promising he’d teach him more tomorrow and in the days to come.

Dean removed his jacket as soon as they got back to the room. He tossed it lightly on the bed all of his things were on, presumably his bed, then. The other one, untouched, would be Cas’s. Castiel found it nice that Dean had thought of him and gotten him a bed. He knew it was just the typical, obvious thing that he technically _had_ to do, but he thought it was nice, still. It’s not like Cas had ever had a bed in a room before that was his own, apart from last week. But that had only been because of the goings on of the night, not planned, not _his_.

‘Feel like food?’ Dean asked, zipping open one of his bags and half disappearing into the bathroom, returning with his and Cas’s discarded clothes from earlier.

‘I wouldn’t object to eating something,’ Castiel replied, not about to admit to Dean that all he’d had today was a bag of pork rinds for breakfast and then the half chocolate bar Dean had given him.

‘Then I’ll just change and head out and grab something and you can just … chill for a while,’ Dean suggested. ‘Watch some TV. Change out of those clothes. Take a shower. Grab a snack from the mini-fridge to hold you over until I get back. Sound good?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I think I’ll take a shower … my hygienic practices have been … lacking, of late. It’s difficult when you’ve got nowhere to go.’

‘Then there’s towels in the bathroom, and if you want something other than the same old clothes to wear you can grab something from my bag.’

‘You … don’t mind?’

‘Nah, man,’ Dean shrugged. ‘And once we get settled in and on the case, we can go out and buy you a few things of your own. Sound good?’

‘Yes, it does.’

‘Anywhere in particular you want me to leave these?’ Dean asked, gesturing the clothes Cas had been wearing earlier.

‘I was hoping I could wash them somewhere,’ Castiel admitted. ‘I’ve been wearing primarily the same articles of clothing for a while now.’

‘I’ll shove them in my bag and we’ll get that done as soon as we can. Alright?’

Castiel nodded. Dean smiled at him, warm and friendly, and Cas felt some of the warmth from Dean’s smile start to radiate through his own chest. He was starting to feel more comfortable than he had in a long time, but he was also well aware of the fact that the last time he and Dean had been in close quarters together for an extended period of time, alone, excluding last week, was purgatory. He didn’t know what to do with that thought.

He watched Dean stow away Cas’s old clothes in his bag, turning away as Dean returned to the bathroom, this time closing the door behind him. Castiel sat down on the chair he’d been sitting on earlier, noticing his old socks were still on the ground. He picked them up and put them wrapped up in the clothes Dean had just put away and then returned to the seat. He looked around the room with a mild interest, until Dean emerged from the bathroom, put his smart clothes into his bag, grabbed his usual jacket and threw it on.

‘Anything specific you want?’ Dean asked, heading for the door.

‘Not really,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I’ll have whatever you’re having.’

‘Good choice,’ Dean grinned. ‘See you in a few.’

Castiel raised a hand in farewell before Dean slipped out the door. He waited several moments before standing up and wandering over to the bathroom, where he saw the towels Dean had mentioned. He walked back out, glanced out the window and noted the Impala was gone. He didn’t know exactly how long Dean would be back, and he didn’t want to be caught in a position that might prove awkward for both of them, so he decided it best to take clothes into the bathroom with him to change into in there after showering.

It felt weird to go through Dean’s things, even invited. Not that he hadn’t done it uninvited in the past that one time. He still remembered the intricate pages of the journal, and how the pages changed and the style bled out into an array of various understandable messes once Dean took over from his father. This time he tried not to disturb things too much, grabbing the first t-shirt, grey and plain, and pair of jeans he came across. He often forgot that Dean must have more than one pair of jeans, it’s just that they all looked the same. He grabbed his own shoes from earlier, too, figuring it would be weird to walk around in his borrowed socks.

He locked the bathroom door behind him. He knew that it was unnecessary, that Dean would get the hint by the closed door and not disturb him, but for some reason it felt safer, like an extra barrier or respect for privacy. It also felt odd to undress (carefully, and he carefully folded the clothes too) in the unfamiliar place. He hadn’t found it quite so strange in the laundromat, where there was no one he knew, but in this shared space where it was just he and Dean even just for one day … he didn’t know why he was making such a big deal about it. It was just Dean.

The shower took some tampering with to get to a decent temperature, and the water pressure was shitty, but it was better than what he’d to do lately. A face cloth, cheap soap, cheap shampoo and a sink. He’d taken off his wrist support too, and the hot water stung at his healing wound, but it was a good sort of sting. It meant that it was cleaning, and healing, he just made sure to avoid getting soap in it, using his injured hand to press the button on the walls build-in soap dispenser and his uninjured hand to catch it.

Castiel spent longer in the shower than he really needed, just to enjoy the sensation of the water cascading down over him, and the feeling of being _clean_. He’d honestly felt cleaner when he’d stayed in shelters while homeless, before his job and his oh-so-not-cozy sleeping spot in a sleeping bag on a hard floor. The sensation of clean clothes which he’d forgotten to appreciate earlier in the day was enjoyable, too. But he sort of wished he had clean underwear. His had faded from white to a dull grey almost like his borrowed t-shirt.

When he exited the bathroom, leaving his used towel folded and separate from the rest of the supplied towels, he noticed Dean was back.

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted him. ‘You can leave your clothes by the bag,’ he told him, pointing at the bag which had been moved from the bed Dean was sitting on to the floor.

Dean removed his headphones from where he’d been listening to his iPod and stood up, grabbing a bag from the night stand. There were two bags on it. He handed the one he’d picked up to Castiel.

‘What’s this?’ Castiel questioned, opening up the bag and seeing an array of things inside.

‘Some things you probably don’t have, or if you do they’re probably back in the place you work … or worked, I guess. You planning on quitting or just disappearing?’

‘You’re supposed to give a week’s notice before you leave,’ Castiel said uneasily. ‘Perhaps I should just vanish completely.’

‘Ah, my forte,’ Dean joked, grabbing the other bag and heading towards the table while Castiel went through the bag he’d been handed.

In the bag, there was a toothbrush and toothpaste, a facecloth, deodorant, a razor and a pack of blades. It was one of those good razors that could be used again and again indefinitely, whereas the store Cas had worked in didn’t sell those, so he’d been using disposables. They were usually good for one or two decent uses, and there were ten in a packet, but the one Dean had gotten him looked better.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel said sincerely, placing the bag of things that were his on the table beside the bed that was, and walking over to join Dean at the table, where Dean had placed out the food that was his.

‘No need to thank me,’ Dean replied, ‘just the basics everyone should have. And … listen,’ he said, lowering the burger he’d already started eating, ‘I didn’t say it last time, but I’m sorry. For just kicking you out with no explanation. It wasn’t fair.’

‘Dean, it’s fine,’ Castiel replied, wanting to wait until they’d finished talking to eat, but his hunger getting the better of him and he started opening up the fries Dean had gotten him. ‘I understand. You did give me an explanation, you said I had to –’

‘I bullshitted you an explanation,’ Dean interrupted. Castiel’s eyebrows raised. ‘I didn’t want to do that. I wanted you to stay. But you just … couldn’t.’

Castiel didn’t want to ask why. He didn’t want to sound like he was … trying to accuse Dean of something. He was over it, truly, he’d been over it almost the second he laid eyes on Dean last week when he showed up with his stupid easy grin.

‘There’s something I can’t tell you. I want to, but I can’t. And that thing is the reason you couldn’t stay and you’re just going to have to trust me.’

‘I do,’ Castiel informed him, thinking Dean should have known that by now. ‘I trust you.’

‘So we’re good?’

‘We’re always good,’ Castiel promised. ‘Besides. This, you being so good to me, you choosing me to help you with this case, would make up for it if it wasn’t already forgotten.’

‘Well, as I said. You’re the only one I can trust with this. And I’m just trying to look out for you. I felt like shit for days after I did that to you, man. I can’t even imagine how you felt.’

‘You shouldn’t feel bad,’ Castiel urged. ‘Please. I told you, it’s forgotten.’

‘Alright, goo – _damn_ , you went through those fries fast.’

Castiel had been rapidly munching during every second he hadn’t been speaking.

‘I’m hungry,’ he shrugged.

‘Did you even eat today?’ Dean probed.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Besides the half-bar I left you?’

‘… Yes.’ He couldn’t hold Dean’s unconvinced gaze. ‘Some pork rinds.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Dean muttered. ‘Here.’

He nudged his barely touched fries towards Cas.

‘Dean, no, I’m fine.’

‘You’re starving. Eat them. I still have the rest of my burger and there’s some shit that came with the room.’

‘They charge for that.’

‘So? Everyone charges for everything. Welcome to America. Next stop: air taxes. Only two thousand breaths a day or it’ll cost you extra.’

Castiel laughed and figured he may as well stop fighting it. After all, he _was_ starving.

‘Thank you, Dean.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just eat.’

Castiel did as requested, and felt better for having done so.

It was the best meal Cas had had in a week. He did feel slightly bad that Dean had given up the majority of his fries, but by persistent offering, he’d managed to give a few back, although he could tell Dean was reluctant to take from him. There’d been a few instances over the years where Cas was hit hard with just how nice of a person Dean was, and this was one of them.

‘So,’ Dean began, once they were both full, pulling his chair around to be closer to Cas like he’d done earlier, ‘we’ll need to talk about … stuff.’

Cas understood what the “stuff” was immediately. Boundaries. Circumstances. All part of a situation Castiel still wasn’t completely sure of how he’d ended up in. It had happened remarkably fast, the day happening as if playing out on a screen in front of him, everything changing with Dean’s first statement when he’d entered the store earlier that day.

‘I agree,’ Castiel said determinedly. ‘I don’t want to do anything that in any way makes you uncomfortable. I’ve been told I’ve done so in the past.’

‘Told by who?’

‘… You.’

Dean frowned, as if it were brand new information.

‘When?’

‘It’s been a while. A few years ago was the last time. Something about personal space.’

‘Oh, right,’ Dean muttered, looking as though he didn’t really want to remember it. ‘I was kind of a dick then. Ignore that past guy. He’s a dick.’

‘No, he’s not,’ Castiel corrected, defending the past version of Dean as if Dean was still the same person he was back then. Well, technically he was the same _person_ , but … he wasn’t the _same_.

Dean seemed sort of … touched, actually, looking down at the ground and refusing to make eye contact with the obvious glimmer of a smile.

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled.

‘I presume,’ Castiel went on, ‘that personal space is something we won’t have the luxury of having in the coming months.’

‘You’ve got that right,’ Dean agreed, along with a slight almost sinister chuckle. ‘One bedroom, one bathroom. And I’ll take the couch.’

‘No, no,’ Castiel said quickly. ‘I will. It’s your case.’

‘And you’ve been sleeping on the floor.’

‘But you’re used to sleeping in a bed.’

‘Fine, we’ll alternate. Deal?’

‘I can get on board with that.’

‘Great.’ Dean had a weird urge to shake on the deal they’d made, but it wasn’t necessary. So, he continued, ‘and there’s the, you know, pretending to be a couple part. We passed today for the photoshoot thing, but that was like, a half hour long. To pass long-term we’ll have to do … stuff.’

‘Stuff?’

‘Nothing that you’re uncomfortable with,’ Dean clarified, very quick to rush to that defense.

‘No, nor you,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I’m … up for whatever needs to be done. I assume … hand holding will be involved?’

‘That’s the main thing we’ll have to do, probably,’ Dean agreed with him. ‘And probably getting up close. Arms around each other, that kind of thing. Stop me if you’re against any of this.’

‘Keep going.’

‘And when talking and around people we’ll need to just … randomly touch in weird places we wouldn’t usually touch. Like …’

Dean reached out and lightly placed his hand on Cas’s knee. Cas’s first instinct was to jerk it away, but Dean had removed it before he could do that stupid thing he wouldn’t purposefully do.

‘And generally we need to actually _look_ like we’re together. Like, we need to look happy and not like we’re just here to kill a gross ass homophobic or transphobic or whatever-else-phobic ghost. Can you do that? I know it might be hard to look at me like you actually _like_ me, let alone anything _else_.’

Dean flashed a smile and Castiel smiled appreciatively in the face of the joke.

‘I think I can manage that,’ Cas replied, with a hint of a …

‘Was that a _smirk_ , Castiel?’

‘Maybe,’ Castiel replied, doing it again and for some reason highly enjoying the use of his full first name.

Dean looked impressed, his eyebrows raising as if he didn’t expect it and was maybe … enjoying it.

‘Well, that’s certainly not something you see every day. So, you’re on bored with everything?’

‘Everything so far.’

‘And if there’s something that bothers you …’

‘I’ll let you know straight away.’

‘And if there’s ever anything you need just let me know. _Anything_. You got that?’

Castiel couldn’t tell if he was implying something or just stressing his point, but either way, he nodded. He greatly appreciated what Dean was doing for him more than he appreciated anything else he’d done in the past. Saving his life was something that came and went daily before, when he had something to save. But now, he had nothing, not his powers, not his status as an angel, not a single thing that could point him in the direction of true survival in life. Nothing but Dean, he guessed.

‘I promise I’ll try not to … annoy you. Or get in your way at all,’ Castiel added, remembering that humans didn’t seem to like being bugged in any way.

‘You’re never in my way,’ Dean assured him. ‘Come on, man. Don’t go all invisible on me like you’re not even there. Relax. Hang out. It’s almost like you’re shy.’

‘I don’t mean to be,’ Castiel frowned, genuinely surprised to hear that. ‘I’m just trying not to overstep. The last time we spent an extended period of time together was purgatory, and there we had a purpose more solid than … going off to a haunted apartment building and living in it until a ghost shows up.’

‘I know,’ Dean nodded, looking away as he thought about it. ‘This is all pretty new to me too. We can just figure this out as we go along. It’s not like we’re _strangers_ , man. You’re, like, the best friend I’ve ever had.’

‘And you’re one of the only, and the best friend _I’ve_ ever had. We just haven’t seemed to have had a traditional _friendship_.’

‘Who needs tradition?’ Dean asked rhetorically, raising his eyebrows. He tried to study Cas’s face, and sighed. ‘Come on, Cas. I know there’s something wrong. Spit it out.’

Castiel looked away. There were a few things going through the back of his mind, some concerns he’d had that had flashed through the front but he’d pushed right back again. They were stupid, and he was stupid for thinking them, of course, this was _Dean_ and he and Dean could tell each other _anything_ , it was just …

‘I’m human,’ Castiel stated, nowhere near by way of an explanation, not without him getting into it first, which he did before Dean replied, ‘and that’s something completely new to me. I’ve always been an angel, and that’s how you’ve perceived me. And now to be this, and have human needs and tendencies, I don’t want that to change how you see me.’

Dean frowned at him and he regretted saying it immediately. Until Dean’s features softened again.

‘I’ve never seen you as just an angel,’ Dean told him, as if Cas were insane. ‘Except maybe at the beginning. But you’re just … you’re _Cas_. Human, angel, robot, Pokémon, you’re just you. You just have no powers and need to do the things everyone else I’ve ever known does. And what difference does that make to me?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I just thought … but …’ he paused, sighing, but it was a sigh of relief. ‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I was honest with you, and it helped me a lot.’

‘And honestly is what we need,’ Dean reminded him, reaching forward to clap him on the shoulder in a friendly manor. ‘Completely open. Completely honest. Completely comfortable. We’re going to be living together after all – let’s not make it a bad experience hiding behind masks.’

‘So you really have no problems with my humanity.’ It was more of a statement than a question, and Cas was glad he’d finished questioning it.

‘None,’ Dean promised, yet again. ‘I do have some rules for us living together, though. And one for tonight.’

‘I’ll follow your rules. What are they?’

‘They’re pretty simple,’ Dean shrugged. ‘If you use the last of the shaving cream, tell me so one of us can buy more. If you use the last of the toilet paper, put out a new roll and just for tonight, please tell me if you snore so I can fall asleep before you like last week, otherwise it’ll take me forever to get to sleep and give me war flashbacks to the time before I figured out if you roll Sam onto his side the snoring stops.’

Castiel huffed out a laugh, turning his head away in his amusement, practically able to feel Dean’s raised eyebrows and rarely-seen shit-eating-grin that yup, when he turned back, were there.

‘As far as I know, I don’t snore,’ Castiel promised. ‘Those are all your rules?’

‘Yeah. Well those and just have common sense, I suppose. I know you’ve got that so I don’t need to worry about it.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Castiel assured, his accompanying word-defining smile suddenly turning into one of pure gratitude as he, like Dean had done a few times today and like he himself had done in the past, reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder. ‘Thank you, Dean, for everything. And for understanding. And … accepting.’

‘There’s nothing not to accept,’ Dean shrugged, his face lighting up as Cas dropped his hand. ‘Man, this is gonna be great. A break from Sam, we get to hang out, and all we have to do for like a month is wait for a ghost to show up so we can kill it. Unless we can summon it or something before then. But this should be great.’

‘I hope it will be,’ Castiel smiled.

‘So,’ said Dean, initiating the end of the discussion, ‘feel like going out or should we stay in for the rest of the night?’

‘We could go out if you’d like,’ Cas shrugged. ‘Though there’s not much to do around here. I’ve noticed that when walking around.’

‘In it is,’ Dean decided. ‘Feel like watching a few movies? Maybe kick back with a couple beers, some snacks … there’s probably nothing good on pay-per-view unless you count the porn, but we could swing by a store and see if we can rent some DVDs. There’s a slot for them on the side of the TV.’

Castiel nodded, smiling genuinely. That sounded like an interesting evening and something he had yet to experience.

‘That sounds nice,’ he nodded again, enthusiastically. ‘I’d like that.’

‘Great,’ Dean grinned. ‘You coming? You can pick the snacks. Unless you have shitty taste in snacks.’

‘I think you’d be surprised by the kinds of things I’d be likely to pick,’ Castiel told him matter-of-factly. ‘I’ve been living almost exclusively off of cheap off-brand junk food, so I’ve acquired a talent for picking out what tastes good for longer after consuming it in large quantities.’

‘Is that so?’ Dean asked, looking rather impressed by Cas’s biggest talent. ‘Well, then. It’s all in your hands, buddy.’

Castiel smirked for the third time that day. He saw Dean’s eyebrows lift in what was seemingly pleasure, which only prolonged that smirk as they made their way to the car, for a car journey less silent without the palpable tension than those earlier in the day.

The first place they went was a small DVD store where they could rent movies for a dollar to three dollars, depending on the movie, for one night. Dean told Cas to pick out anything that caught his eye, and Dean would do the same, the first movie being The Dark Knight Rises picked by Dean. Castiel’s eyes were drawn to the one with the man and the bear, Ted, so that was second. Dean also picked out The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, added an ‘uh, don’t tell Sam I watched this, alright?’ and Castiel picked the fourth movie, Just Go With It, ‘because it seems like that’s what we’re doing, isn’t it? We’re just going with whatever comes along in our situation.’

Next they hit up the nearest store that looked as though it might sell candy and got an entire bag of crap. Pringles, pork rinds, Doritos, chocolate, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and three different tubs of Ben and Jerry’s Ice cream, along with a six pack of beer and then a jar of instant coffee to help wake them up to have first thing in the morning using the cheap kettle in their room to boil the water.

‘You do realize we have no freezer and we’ll have to eat all three of these tubs or else they’ll melt, right?’ Dean asked as they left the store together, Castiel holding the bag.

All Cas said in response was, ‘dibs on the chocolate fudge,’ which left Dean wondering where the hell he’d heard the word “dibs” and how he knew what it meant.


	3. I Said Something Wrong

So, as it turned out, Castiel was a bottomless pit. There wasn’t an ounce of bottom in him – at all. What was in him, however, was a craving for chocolate like an addict’s craving for heroin, along with a fulfilling for that craving. Dean had gotten maybe one scoop of the chocolate fudge – the rest was all in Cas, along with a swirl of the rest of the chocolate products that they’d bought. Dean was surprised the guy didn’t throw up. He washed it down with the beers Dean had gotten, but he seemed to be going slowly with those.

It was good to see Cas laugh, something he was doing a lot at Ted, which was the first movie they decided to watch – best to start off with something fun before the second and third features exposed Dean’s nerdiness and the other movie Cas had chosen closed the show. They both sat on their respective beds, the two chairs covered in junk food between them which they reached for whenever they felt like it throughout.

It took an entire movie for Dean to convince Cas he’d be more comfortable if he took off his shoes and socks and that he was completely okay with it. He had neither foot phobia nor fetish, which made Cas laugh and Dean was happy that the movie wasn’t the only thing making him to do that.

At the end of the second movie when Dean offered Cas his spare sweats to change into for comfort and because ‘come on, you don’t want to sleep in your jeans,’ Castiel was hesitant to accept.

‘I don’t want to be a bother,’ he replied graciously, shaking his head at the offer.

‘Cas, come on, you’re not,’ Dean insisted. ‘It’s not like I need them. I’m not gonna wear them both at the same time.’

‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’

‘Positive. Here.’

Dean tossed the sweats at Cas, who caught them and went to change.

Cas liked The Hobbit more than he liked The Dark Knight Rises, even though it was a whole _three hours long_. Cas wasn’t exactly a frequent movie watcher, in fact this was his first time, but he presumed that was pretty long for a movie. Still he enjoyed it and Dean seemed to, too, even though it didn’t seem particularly … _Dean_. Huh. He didn’t comment on it.

Cas seemed to like the fourth movie even more than the first one. Dean liked it too; he’d loved Adam Sandler since Big Daddy and Jennifer Aniston since Friends. He also recognized one of the kids from somewhere, but he wasn’t quite sure until about half way through when he remembered she’d played young Snow White on Once Upon A Time – not that he watched that show. He’d seen it on a few times when channel flicking on a Sunday night.

Castiel asleep in a half sitting position ten minutes before the end of the last movie. Dean chuckled to himself when he noticed, turning the TV down so he wouldn’t startle the peaceful sight. Not only peaceful, but it was odd, too. He’d seen Cas sleep just once before, when he was an angel still, but damaged. That time had been peaceful and worrying. He was glad he didn’t have that worry now, that sleeping was something healthy for him for once.

Yet the worry was still there. Cas had relaxed, finally, once they’d had their talk, but it still looked like he was holding back. Dean felt bad for him. Dean had been human his entire existence so he was used to just … living. Chilling. Getting on with whatever and whoever. But Cas, the poor guy, he’d been human for five minutes. A fucking awful five minutes at that, too, and that was partly Dean’s fault. Every time Cas mentioned anything about how he’d been living since Dean had been forced to kick him out he wanted to detach an arm and use it to punch himself in the face. Repeatedly. He deserved it for doing that to Cas whether Cas forgave him or not.

Dean jerked his head away and focused back on the screen as they ending of the movie played out. He’d been staring. Usually it was the other way around: Dean waking up to find Castiel staring at him. He sort of got it, now. If Dean looked anywhere near as … peaceful, yeah let’s go with peaceful, as Cas did when he was asleep, he didn’t blame the guy. It was always pleasant to look at something peaceful for a while.

When the movie ended, Dean shut it off. He glanced at Cas sleeping again and wondered if covering him over with the blanket that came folded on the end of the bed was a step too far. He didn’t _think_ so, it was just a nice gesture, so he did it, hoping it wouldn’t disturb him. Covering him over was one thing, but being _caught_ doing it was another story.

Dean wandered over to the side of his bed, drank the last of his third beer and brought the can over to the bin containing the other five cans (they’d each had three) and put it in carefully. Usually he just would have tossed it, but he didn’t want to wake Cas. Then he hit the lights and climbed into bed. Castiel’s stress-free form was the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes.

When Castiel awoke the next morning, he felt more refreshed than he had in all the time he’d been human. He sat up, wondering what he’d fallen asleep and vaguely remembered _not_ remembering the end of  the last movie, and he didn’t remember covering himself either. He saw Dean sitting at the table looking at his phone and drinking something out of one of the cups that came on the tray by the kettle in the corner, presumably the coffee they’d bought yesterday.

‘Morning,’ Dean greeted, when he noticed Cas was wake. ‘Coffee? I left you the cup that’s not chipped and the water’s probably still hot.’

‘When …?’

‘About ten minutes before the end,’ Dean told him.

‘And did you …?’ Castiel gestured the blanket.

‘You … looked cold,’ Dean lied hesitantly.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel replied, getting out of bed. ‘How long until we have to go and view our pictures?’

‘About an hour and a half,’ Dean answered. ‘Enough time to grab breakfast before we go. Here, sit down, wake up a little.’

Cas sat down in the chair Dean hadn’t just vacated and he noticed Dean was already dressed. He looked alert, too, fixing him a cup of instant, while Cas, though refreshed, also felt like he’d just been hit by a bus. A downside of waking up and the whole humanity thing.

Cas gave a half smile gratefully when Dean put the cup down in front of him. He drank from it straight away; thankfully it was just the perfect temperature after the water had sat for a while once it had boiled, and he as able to drink the entire cup in fast gulps. It helped a lot, waking him up and clearing his head.

‘I left you some clothes in the bathroom,’ Dean offered, ‘and I put the bag with the stuff I got you in there too. Bring out everything when you’re done so I can pack it?’

When Castiel thanked him again, it felt like it was all he’d done in the time they’d been together since yesterday. He put his empty cup down and headed into the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed.

Dean had left his shaving cream out for Cas to use. Shaving with the razor Dean had gotten him was better than using those old disposables he’d gotten used to. And using a face cloth was better than using his hands to wash his face. The deodorant Dean had gotten him smelled better than the cheap stuff from the store he’d worked at.

The clothes Dean had left him included the same jeans from yesterday and his own shoes, with clean socks and a clean shirt, this one a grey and white flannel button up which he looked at in the mirror several times trying to gauge whether it looked good on him or not. He knew it looked good on Dean, he’d seen him wearing it, usually open over a t-shirt, but sometimes, rarely, buttoned up with nothing underneath.

When Castiel left the bathroom with everything from in there in his arms, he noticed Dean was eyeing him up with what looked like approval like he’d noticed he’d done in the past a few times. The time he’d cleaned up after purgatory and last week in the car before his “date” sprang to mind.

‘Do I look okay?’ he asked, assuming that’s what Dean checking out.

‘Not bad,’ Dean nodded, getting to his feet. He grabbed his bag and tossed it onto the bed closest to the bathroom and pointed to it.

Castiel got the hint and put all of the things he was holding into it, zipping it up again afterwards. Dean seemed to be gathering the other, smaller things from around the room like keys and his phone and lastly, the four DVDs they’d rented, which he put back in the bag they’d come in.

‘We’ll return these then grab breakfast,’ Dean told him the plan for the morning.

Castiel nodded and picked Dean’s bag up, following him to the door. He didn’t see the point in handing it to him when he was perfectly capable of carrying it for himself, so he slid it over his shoulder and followed Dean out, waiting by the door while Dean locked it.

‘Here,’ said Dean, handing Cas a different set of keys, ‘put the bag in the trunk and take this.’ He handed him the DVD bag. ‘I’ll just head in there and check out.’

Dean gestured a door nearby and Cas thought it convenient he’d managed to get a room so close to the front desk. Castiel nodded his understanding and headed to the Impala, politely nodding at a young woman with a child clinging to her who’d smiled at him in passing on his way.

Dean wasn’t gone long. Cas waited in the passenger’s seat, holding onto the keys. He’d also noticed in the trunk that there were more bags like the one they’d had inside, presumably containing more stuff like clothes and whatever else they’d need in their time living in the haunted apartment building.

Cas felt a growl in his stomach just as Dean got into the car. Dean looked at him with raised eyebrows and genuine surprise.

‘Tell me that after everything you ate last night you’re not _hungry_.’

Castiel shrugged, indifferent.

‘I guess I am. Aren’t you?’

‘Not … _stomach growling_ hungry,’ Dean stressed, looking almost impressed by how much Cas seemed to be able, nay, seemed to _need_ to eat. ‘Damn. Most of the money Sam and me managed to get for this case is going to be spent on feeding you, isn’t it?’

Castiel chuckled, looking down at his lap.

‘Well, I have grown fond of eating.’

Dean laughed and clapped Cas on the shoulder.

‘Then we’d better get going and get you fed before you turn to skin and bone.’

Dean started the car and Cas smiled again, smiling at Dean although Dean had turned away from him. Then Cas turned away too, looking out the window, so Dean wouldn’t see the way he was looking at him. He’d probably have asked why he was looking like that, but Cas didn’t know so it was best to avoid the question coming up all together.

Dean was in and out when returning the DVDs in a snap and then back in the car on route towards the nearest place serving breakfast which was a small diner just a block away. Inside they slid into a booth by the window and picked up the two menus that were already on the table. They spent a couple of minutes going over them before a waitress appeared, smiling and friendly, young and naïve, probably thinking this was just a temporary job and she totally wouldn’t up like the other sour looking waitress wiping down a table nearby.

‘Ready to order?’ she chirped, dimples parallel to each other each side of her painted red lips.

‘You go first,’ Dean encouraged Cas. ‘I’m still deciding something.’

‘I’ll have the bacon and sausage omelet,’ Castiel decided, thinking the picture looked good, ‘and coffee. Black.’

The waitress wrote it down and turned towards Dean, who was frowning at his menu as he lowered.

‘I’ll have black coffee too but I have a question – does the special only come with a side of eggs _or_ hash browns or can I get both?’

‘If you want both, then both it is,’ the waitress simpered. ‘Is that everything?’

They nodded. The waitress sauntered off to do the next part of her job.

‘You order both sides, yet criticize me for being hungry?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows accusingly, more pointing out the irony of it than accusing him of anything.’

‘I’ll trade you a hash brown for a bite of your omelet,’ was Dean’s only response, accompanied by an annoyingly innocent grin.

‘Garbage disposal,’ Castiel muttered, muttering something he didn’t fully understand but had once overheard a customer say to his friend who was buying a lot of junk food.

‘Oh yeah? Last night ring any bells?’ Dean teased, raising his eyebrows at the hypocrisy, though technically he’d been the hypocrite first. ‘You’re the garbage disposal here, pal.’

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Dean smirked. Cas looked out the window to keep from smiling at that stupid fucking idiot sitting across from him.

‘So how do you feel about seeing the pictures?’ Dean asked, making conversation and attempting to tear Cas away from whatever was so fascinating about the window, and wondering why Cas always stared so intently out the window even though it looked like he was looking at nothing.

‘I think they may be interesting to look at,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I’ve rarely seen myself in picture form. I hope they … look okay.’

‘Of course they will,’ Dean insisted, ‘with your constant-camera-ready good looks? Just practicing,’ he added quickly, when Cas raised an eyebrow in something that looked like concern for Dean’s mental well-being.

‘Hypocritical and complimentary in the morning,’ Castiel noted. ‘I’ll add those to the list of things I’ll need to document about you if I’m to adapt to living with you.’

‘You do that,’ Dean laughed a small laugh. ‘And be lucky it’s me you’re getting stuck with. I’m a joy to live with and in the mornings I’m all sparked up and sprightly. Sam though, god, dude crawls out of bed at noon and stumbles blindly until he’s got about a quart of coffee in him. Then he goes jogging and comes back smelling like an elephants pit, then he eats flakes and dried up fruit that looks like something you’d feet a rabbit in the morning.’

The phrase “I’m all sparked up and sprightly” was possibly the most cringe worthy thing to come out of Dean’s mouth, but he was still smiling all excitable and friendly like, so Castiel tried not to judge him too harshly for it.

‘I was honestly expecting you to be the one who’s hard to deal with in the morning,’ Castiel told him. ‘Not that – not that I was imagining it, but when the scenario accidentally crossed my mind, like last week before you awoke, I expected you to be grumpy and in protest of things as basic as sunlight and morning birdsong.’

‘Oh, come on, give me some credit,’ Dean protested, frowning at him but keeping his spirits high sounding. ‘When I’m in a good mood you never know what great things you might expect. I might be like what you described if I’m hungover though, or got to bed late, or I’m still tired when I wake up, I slept weird, I had a confusing dream ... okay. Yeah. Maybe I’m not always so good at the whole morning thing.’

‘Just when you’re in a good mood.’

‘Apparently.’

‘And you’re in a good mood now.’

‘Yup.’

‘May I ask if there’s any particular reason why?’

Dean shrugged as if the thought hadn’t really occurred to him and didn’t bother him or make him curious in any way.

‘Good food coming?’ he questioned. ‘Good drive impending? Sugar high from last night? Who knows, man. And that shirt suits you, by the way. I don’t know if I said.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yeah. That style in general. You look good.’

Castiel smiled, looking down at the table, feeling happy for Dean and his good mood. Dean was so rarely in them these days, or at least in the times he’d spent with him, that it was mood-lifting to even see him in one. It was also pleasant to be complimented, although clearly Dean was just practicing for the kinds of things he’d have to say in public around their new living area when they got there.

‘As I said,’ Castiel replied, ‘complimentary is on the list.’

They were interrupted by the waitress bringing their coffee and promising their food would soon follow. Castiel went to drink from his mug straight away, but it was a strange shape and the handle was small, forcing the backs of his fingers to press against the cup and it was too hot to pick up. He noticed Dean had gotten his picked up without burning himself and studied how he did it. He used two hands, finger tips from one hand on the edge of the top and edge of the bottom, the other hand holding the handle in a way that didn’t require him to curl his fingers around it due to his other hand providing support on the other side.

Castiel found that clever. He would have figured it out himself a minute later, having tried several different ways and most likely burning himself, but was happy he’d found out via observation. During his time as a human, observation had been key, things he’d paid attention to over the years, heard people talk about whatnot even just in passing, and lately he’d been paying even closer attention to little things every day as much as he could.

While noting how Dean held his cup and copying, he noticed Dean had some freckles on his fingers. That was something he hadn’t noticed before now, and he’d thought he knew everything about Dean’s physical appearance from watching him so much. Obviously not. He made a note to pay more attention to his hands in future.

‘Blanking out?’ Dean asked, jerking him back into reality from his absent-minded sipping and staring.

‘I was just–’ Castiel stopped himself from admitting he’d actually been staring at Dean’s finger-freckles like he might have at any other time. But he’d learned that would sound weird, and he definitely didn’t want to do that. It met mess up the whole thing they had going so far, that seemed to be going as well as it could be. ‘Blanking out,’ he agreed, casting his eyes towards the table as he placed his coffee back down, not wanting to drink all of it before their food had even arrived.

Dean chuckled sympathetically.

‘I’ve been there,’ he told Cas, rolling his eyes at a memory past. ‘The worst thing is when you blank out staring at someone and they notice. You either have to tell them they’re pretty or offend them by saying you didn’t realize you were staring at an actual person.’

‘Then …’ Castiel hesitated, meaning to make a joke out of Dean’s last statement and hoping he’d get it and it wouldn’t come off as invasive, ‘you’re pretty.’

Dean raised his eyebrows.

‘And _I’m_ the one that’s complimentary this morning?’

‘Well, not you,’ Castiel specified, ‘your hands. That’s what my eyes were … stuck on when I blanked out.’

Dean smiled. No, not smiled, smiled _at_ him. Not just directed in his direction, but at him, because of him, meant for him. For some reason that thought lingered in Cas’s mind, that he was the one who’d been making Dean smile over the course of yesterday and this morning.

‘My hands say thank you,’ Dean replied.

‘They’re welcome,’ Cas told him, hoping that didn’t sound stupid.

Castiel had lowkey been expecting Dean to do that thing he did where he sort of went into defensive mode and brushed him off without caring about Cas’s “compliment” (he’d passed it off as a joke, but truly, Dean was pretty and so were his hands) and he’d reply with that gruff manor he often put up against people, clearing his throat and reaffirming an earlier statement they’d already passed by, in this case reaffirming that blanking out staring at someone sucks, then he’d move on to a completely different topic. But he didn’t, and that’s when Cas saw that Dean was trying just as hard as he was to make this whole situation better and easier on both of them.

 _Or maybe_ , a small voice in the back of Cas’s head whispered, _it’s you_.

Now _that_ was something Castiel brushed off. It wasn’t just because it was just him and Cas alone that Dean wasn’t putting up his usual defences. Not that Cas was accusing him of having defences, that was just Dean, not trying to prove anyone to anyone, of course …

Although, Dean was always trying to prove something to someone. There was no denying that.

‘You’ve gone awfully quiet,’ Dean commented.

Right at that moment, their food arrived and they thanked the waitress, but once she’d gone Dean continued watching Cas for signs of response to his comment.

‘I’m just thinking,’ Castiel answered honestly, as the two of them began to eat.

‘About anything in particular?’

 _Not you_ , Cas warned himself of the answer he shouldn’t give but as though he was speaking it to Dean directly, _definitely not you._

‘My … shoes,’ Castiel decided was a safe bet. ‘You mentioned we could go shopping when we get to the location we’ll be working in. I was hoping I could get some new shoes because ever since the slushy incident mine have smelled odd and the one that was worst affected is still sticky.’

Dean studied him for a moment. Castiel waited tensely for Dean’s response, for some reason thinking Dean could tell he was lying.

‘You’re odd, you know that?’ Dean asked, saying it as simply as if he were stating that the sky is blue.

Castiel felt a sinking feeling. He’d been trying to avoid Dean thinking that of him.

‘Why do you think that?’ he asked, hoping his answer could help change the thought soon enough after Cas put in a little work to stop doing whatever it was he was doing that was odd.

‘Because you always say something other than what I think you’ll say,’ Dean told him.

 _Or hope you’ll say_ , Dean thought to himself, immediately dismissing the stray thought.

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel apologized. ‘Is that bad?’

‘No, not bad,’ Dean assured him, looking apologetic of the fact he’d worried Cas. ‘Just … odd. Maybe that’s not the right word, but … it’s like a good kind of odd. It’s almost refreshing. You’re just like a box of chocolates, you never know what you’re gonna get. And you _know_ that’s a good thing.’

Castiel smiled, hoping Dean knew it was directed at him, the way he himself knew when Dean’s were directed at him.

‘I do like chocolate,’ Castiel confirmed the fact that he did indeed know that was a good thing, feeling better now that he knew he was doing everything right and didn’t have to tweak his behaviour. ‘What are _you_ thinking about, Dean?’ Castiel prodded, shooting Dean’s own question back at him. 

Dean paused, as if considering at.

‘I’m thinking about the deal we made,’ Dean announced, picking up one of his hash browns on his fork and dropping it on Cas’s plate. ‘Now pay up your end.’

Castiel let out an amused sigh with another smile and nudged his plate closer to Dean to signal for him to take what he wanted, which he did, then pushed the plate back.

‘Perfect,’ Dean grinned. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Castiel replied, before picking up the hash brown Dean had given him and biting into it while Dean chewed what he’d taken from Cas’s plate.

They continued eating in an easy silence. They didn’t need to speak and it was easier not to. Castiel watched the happenings of the place around them as he ate, like he often watched things, and found for once it was more preferable instead to just concentrate on his food. He didn’t _have_ to watch _everything_ , although now and then he did sneak some glances at Dean, studying him instead, trying to gauge his mood or possibly his thought process as it showed on his face, but he was a mask. If anything, he looked bored. Cas noticed him blanking out at one stage and hoped in silent amusement he wasn’t staring at anyone over Cas’s shoulder which is where he seemed to be looking. Unless he was looking at _him_ , but Cas didn’t call him out on it. He probably didn’t realize he was staring at an actual person, like he’d said earlier.

Cas finished eating first, continuing the silence as he picked up his coffee to drink the last of it, staring out the window again. It wasn’t a particularly good day, dull, cool late-November weather. Castiel wondered what it would be like in West Hollywood, which he assumed was in California, since he’d heard all that about the bright lights in Hollywood as he watched humanity, and he knew plain old not-west Hollywood was in California from what he’d heard, so the west part must be too.

Then again, everything wasn’t always as it seemed. West Virginia wasn’t in the same state as Virginia, they were both states in themselves. North and South Carolina. North and South Dakota. And, as far as he knew, Washington DC wasn’t even in Washington. It wasn’t even in _any_ state, yet it wasn’t a state in itself. He wondered why that was. It wasn’t something he’d learned in his observation over Earth – he’d learned the what’s, many of the how’s, a few of the where’s, but very few why’s. It was the humans that had the answers to the why’s.

‘Have you any idea why Washington DC is not a place within the state of Washington, or considered to even be in any state at all for that matter?’ he blurted out, watching Dean consider the question as he chewed his final mouthful, putting his fork down on his cleared plate.

Dean shrugged while he finished chewing and answered as soon as he swallowed.

‘I’m not sure about that one,’ he answered, thinking hard about it. ‘The place isn’t even _near_ Washington.’

‘Where is it?’ Castiel asked.

‘Pacific North West,’ Dean explained. ‘Right up at the very top on the west side – not like the sun rising and setting or whatever, but map west. The left of the map. And DC is on the right, near the east coast, right up against Pennsylvania.’

‘So why is it not Washington DC, Pennsylvania state then?’

‘Maybe it makes it more important sounding. That it’s just DC, it’s too important to be in a state and more important _than_ a state because that’s where the white house is.’

‘I guess that makes sense,’ Castiel nodded, accepting that answer.

‘Why do you ask?’

Castiel didn’t even want to try explaining his train of thought to Dean.

‘Because I’m odd.’

Dean laughed at the statement. Castiel took a moment to marvel in the fact that he had made Dean laugh because he was genuinely funny, not because he’d done something stupid.

‘You done here?’ Dean asked, gesturing his mug. Castiel nodded. ‘Great. Then we can just pay and go.’

Two minutes later, they were on the road again, headed towards the house of the photographer to check out their images.

‘So why is Hawaii a state?’ Cas asked, picking up his earlier topic of questioning. ‘It’s an Island not in the main body of land that is the United States, yet it’s still a part of the United States. And Alaska, too. Haven’t you ever wondered why?’

‘Not … really,’ Dean admitted hesitantly. He didn’t want to seem like he wasn’t interested, because he was and it was a damn good question even if he didn’t know why Cas was dwelling on it. ‘I just sort of go with it. What’s there is there and what happens happens. It doesn’t really affect me at all, so I don’t think about it. The things I think about are like … the dumb laws and stuff.’

‘Dumb laws?’

‘In Illinois, it’s illegal to have sex with a dead body.’

Castiel frowned at him.

‘Who would even want to do that?’

‘People who enjoy necrophilia?’

‘Okay. That makes sense. Then why is that a dumb law?’

‘Because that should be an obvious thing,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So having a law is dumb.’

‘I guess so. But what laws are there that are _really_ dumb that you know of?’

‘Well, you’re in for a treat, because looking up dumb laws is one of my favorite pass-times,’ Dean grinned. ‘We’re going to be living in California for a while, so let’s start there. So it’s illegal there for women to drive in a house coat.’

‘What?’

‘And a car without a driver isn’t allowed to go over sixty miles an hour.’

‘How would a car get over sixty miles an hour without a driver in the first place?’

‘It’s illegal to shoot anything from a moving vehicle unless it’s a whale.’

‘Dean, you’re messing with me.’

‘I’m completely serious,’ Dean insisted. ‘Google it. More?’

‘Alright, I’m interested.’

‘Let’s see … we’re in Idaho right now, and some cities have pretty dumb laws that aren’t state wide but they’re still a thing. Like in one city you’re not allowed to fish from a giraffe’s back.’

‘But who would– you know what? Never mind.’

‘There’s somewhere where you’re not allowed to be seen in public if you’re not smiling.’

‘What if you’re sad?’

‘Become an actor and act like you’re happy. That’s all I’ve got for Idaho.’

‘Do you know any more for anywhere else?’

‘Uh … in Illinois there’s a law that says that when a man and a woman are on a date and they’re not married, she has to call him “master.” There’s somewhere, can’t remember where, where it’s illegal to take a lion to the movies. In Nebraska it’s illegal to serve beer in a tavern unless a kettle of soup is brewing at the same time. Oh, and in most states, it’s not legal for a man to marry a man or a woman to marry a woman, but it was legal somewhere for someone to marry a video game character, and that’s fucking stupid.’

‘A _video game character_?’

‘Someone once married the Eifel Tower too.’

‘But … why?’

Dean shrugged, looking pissed off about it.

‘I don’t know and I honestly don’t want to.’

‘I agree with you on that being stupid.’

They fell silent. Castiel began thinking again, this time about humanity and its flaws. Some very flawed individuals must have come up with those laws. As for the last one … that wasn’t a flaw. That was disgusting. Cas looked at Dean, trying to read his face, which he’d found difficult of late since he was so unpredictable.

‘Does it bother you?’ Castiel asked suddenly, giving up on his reading attempt.

‘Does what bother me?’ Dean asked. ‘The stupid law thing?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I mean, as … a bisexual person, if you ever wanted to get married, but not to a woman …’

Dean sighed. He looked uncomfortable and Castiel felt guilty immediately.

‘I don’t think that would ever happen,’ he said evenly. ‘Me … getting married … unlikely to happen, period. But to … like you just said … I mean, it’s not like it’s exactly common knowledge that I … y’know …’

‘I know,’ Castiel told him, so he wouldn’t have to say something he obviously struggled with saying out loud. ‘But it’s not too late. If you ever did decide to tell … people. Like Sam.’

‘I know,’ Dean sighed, his mood seemingly having taken a deep drop, ‘but at the same time, it is. I could never … I mean it would change everything. Change how people see me, change what they think about me …’

‘It didn’t change what I think about you,’ Castiel said quietly, still regretting having brought it up. It hurt him to see Dean struggle, to be so clearly against something that was part of him … or not against it. But afraid of it.

‘I know,’ Dean sadly, looking at Cas with a look that he couldn’t quite pin down. He looked sad, yet grateful, yet … there was something else there. ‘And you see Cas, that’s what I love about you. You’re not like anyone else out there. It’s my favorite thing about you.’

Castiel followed through on sudden urge to touch Dean and did so by putting his hand gently on his shoulder. Dean glanced at the hand for a fraction of a second.

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel expressed sincerely. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘It’s fine, Cas,’ Dean shook it off. ‘I’m the one who brought up the law thing – anyway, doesn’t matter now, we’re here.’

Dean stopped the car and got out, Cas rushing to get after him, still not feeling completely right about the direction their conversation had taken. All he wanted to do when he looked at Dean was tell them that what other people thought didn’t matter, and that they wouldn’t think anything differently anyway, and that Dean should take every little part of himself in his stride, because people – or at least Cas – admired him for it, and the fact that he’d been able to say it out loud to at least one person he trusted, even if only accidentally … and Cas wanted to keep his hand on Dean’s shoulder while he said all of it, make him look at him, make him understand truly just how much Castiel admired him and how bad he felt about bringing up an uncomfortable topic …

But Cas said nothing and did nothing, joining Dean’s side as they walked towards the house.

They were invited inside the same as yesterday and offered tea or coffee, but they kindly declined. They were brought through to the same room as yesterday, except now the furniture was back in place and the green screen gone, a laptop on the coffee table with several dozen tiny pictures on it, and Robert Ruiz proceeded to show them each one, some in color, some in black and white, some portrait and some landscape.

They could only choose six and it was a difficult choice. The two that stood out the most were one where Dean had decided to fix Cas’s tie as it fell slightly crooked, the picture in black and white with a background of a crowded book shelf.

And then one they remembered taking straight after that, except this background was a less crowded book shelf. Dean and Cas stood by side, Dean’s hand on (hovering near) Cas’s back while he looked at the camera, and Cas looked at Dean.

_There’s the admiration you deserve_ , Castiel muttered in his head, glancing from his own smile in the picture directed at Dean, to the real Dean, frowning in concentration as he studied the picture. _Why can’t you see how great you truly are? Why aren’t you seeing how much respect I have for you?_

A list of all the kind things Dean had done for him in less than twenty four hours ran through his head, but he stayed quiet.

They left with those pictures, plus four others they had chosen, all in identical frames which was part of the deal. They were wrapped carefully and placed in a box together, a box which Dean placed in the trunk with their other things. It was strange to see such a neat little box among a mess of packed bags and weaponry and salt and everything else that came with being a hunter.

And then they were on the road, on route to West Hollywood, California, ready for the case to really begin. Castiel decided to learn from his earlier mistake and this time, just keep his mouth shut and let his questions go unanswered and let Dean drive and listen to the radio on low in peace.

Castiel wasn’t sure of how long had gone by until Dean spoke again. The radio, which had a tape in it, had cranked out several songs, all of which Cas had heard played before. Maybe it was a favorite tape of Dean’s. Maybe this was the first time he’d listened to it since Cas had heard it last, a time Cas couldn’t pinpoint exactly, but it must have been a year ago. Maybe more. He knew it was post-purgatory, but pre-this mess, with the fallen angels caused by his stupid mistake in trusting Metatron and that spell.

It was his fault the angels were trapped out of heaven. It was his fault he was graceless and primarily homeless, bar the case. And, worst of all at the moment, it was his fault he had upset Dean.

‘You’re quiet again,’ was what Dean said, breaking the silence, a silence that must have lasted almost twenty minutes. The longer silence time may have been justified by being on the road, having things to look at as they passed, but the road and roadside had been clear of interest points for a while now.

‘There’s nothing to say,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I don’t want to say anything that could potentially be wrong.’

‘Wrong like what?’ Dean asked, frowning and attempting to meet Cas’s eyes, which he only held for a moment before Cas pulled away, but it was enough. ‘You mean earlier, before we picked up the pictures? Cas, you didn’t say anything wrong.’

‘It felt like I did.’

‘You didn’t,’ Dean insisted. ‘Really. Come on, man. Don’t feel bad.’

‘I _do_ feel bad.’

‘And I’m telling you don’t.’

Castiel took a pause, sighing through his nose. He swallowed, treading carefully.

‘I never know what to say,’ he admitted. ‘I’m constantly afraid it will come out wrong, or it’s something I shouldn’t have said in the first place. So that’s why it’s best if I don’t say anything.’

‘No,’ said Dean, shaking his head sternly. ‘No, Cas. I’m not about to take thirteen hours of you sitting sulking and feeling all guilty. And I’m definitely not about to take a month or however long of you being afraid to _speak_.’

‘And if I say something upsetting?’ Castiel inquired, a little defensively. ‘Or offensive? Or something that you don’t agree with?’

‘Then you say something upsetting or offensive that I don’t agree with. We move on. We get over it. We’ve gotten over worse than you _saying_ something that pisses me off. Remember that whole you working with Crowley business that caused the whole Leviathan thing? We’re past that, aren’t we?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied stiffly. ‘But that whole thing with the Leviathans caused us to spend a year in purgatory. Are we past _that_?’

‘I am if you are.’

‘And are we over the fact that I’ve hurt you physically?’ Castiel demanded testily.

‘You were following orders.’

‘Are we over the fact that I ruined the entirety of heaven causing the angels to fall to Earth and bringing about my own powerlessness and humanity?’

‘You made a mistake,’ Dean said slowly. ‘Everyone makes mistakes.’

‘Not mistakes like _that_.’

‘Well, you’re not everyone. You’re an angel.’

‘No, I’m not.’

‘Not technically,’ Dean pointed out, ‘but you’re still as stubborn as one.’

‘There’s more things I’ve done I could name,’ Castiel muttered grumpily.

‘More things you’ve done that we got through and got over. It’s not like I’ve exactly been a saint to you either, but I’m trying, okay?’

‘I know you’re trying,’ Castiel told him, sounding more angrily than he’d intended. He felt himself deflate a little and some of that anger leave, his gratitude sneaking back in. ‘You’re not _trying_ , Dean. You’ve already done more for me in less than twenty four hours than anyone else has done for me in my entire existence. Not to mention the years of good deeds in relation to me before now.’

‘Why are we even arguing about this?’ Dean snapped at him.

‘Because you told me to talk, and I did, and I said something _wrong_!’

Dean responded by something that sent a bolt of terror through Cas’s entire being. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned it off.

‘Get out,’ he commanded.

Castiel’s blood ran cold.

‘What?’

If God was out there, and listening, Cas was begging him to not let what Dean said be what it was.

‘Get out,’ Dean repeated, unbuckling his own seatbelt and opening his door, ‘come on, get out.’

Dean got out and started walking around to Cas’s side. Cas hurriedly undid his seatbelt, his hands fumbling, his heart pounding. He’d really done it now. He’d pissed Dean off to the extent that he was just going to leave him here on the side of the road over twenty minutes away from civilization by car. Well, it wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it. He just didn’t expect it of Dean.

Castiel’s hand reached for the handle, but Dean had gotten there first in Cas’s fumbling. Dean pulled open the door and Cas stepped out as Dean got out of the way.

The first thing he said was, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Cas.’

Dean spoke gently, startling Castiel because he had thought he was angry. Dean’s hands found their way to either side of Cas’s arms, holding him in place. Castiel reluctantly met his eyes.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Stop. Saying. You’re sorry,’ Dean commanded, still speaking in a low, soft voice. ‘You have nothing to apologize for. All I want is for you to talk to me, and don’t give me any of that saying something wrong crap or whatever. We’ll figure this out. Even if all you want to say is that … you think pinecones are stupid, because really man, what the hell even are those things?’

Castiel shrugged, staying quiet, although he could have educated Dean on pinecones then and there, he knew now was not the moment. Dean’s hands stayed on his arms through the shrug, but they weren’t aggressive. Cas couldn’t feel any pressure from them, only their presence enough to know that they were there.

‘Now smile,’ Dean instructed.

Castiel put on the ghost of a smile, but it made Dean’s eyes light up in a way that looked as though Cas had just told him he’d found a million dollars and was taking him on a getaway to Hawaii. Dean clapped his shoulder and dropped both hands now, certain Castiel wouldn’t try to turn away from him. He had an urge to hug the guy, but he wasn’t going to. That would be going overboard.

‘Now,’ Dean said, clapping is hands together, ‘go get in the driver’s seat. This road is pretty uneventful for the next few miles until we have to turn off onto the highway. You’ve got learning to do.’

‘Seriously?’ Castiel asked, his eyebrows raising and his ghost-smile turning into some real enthusiasm.

‘Yes. Now go on. Don’t make me regret this. And know that if you crash my car, you will die. Because I will kill you. Because no one crashes my car.’

‘I promise not to crash,’ Castiel said, hand over heart (metaphorically, not literally) as he made his way around to the other side.

Dean got into the passenger’s seat, somewhere he hadn’t been in a while, and turned towards Cas who sat next to him moments later. Dean gave him a grin of encouragement, and received a weak smile back. He was gonna have work to do, and he didn’t just mean with the driving lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two pictures used:  
> Tie fixing, I made. The other one is from google images, but I lost the source, but there's a watermark on it in the bottom right.


	4. Ice Cream, Ex-Lax, Frozen Yogurt

****

Castiel was shaky for a while, afraid to go too fast so they were crawling along, luckily alone on the road, but he got the controls down almost at once. The speed he soon mastered, shortly before the first turn, which Dean guided him through, placing one hand on the wheel to guide Cas through it, instructing him verbally as he did so, and then they made it around the curve without dying.

He had gotten the hang of it by the second, steeper turn and Dean went hands free this time. When they were about half a mile to the highway (okay, Cas was getting good pretty fast, but he definitely wasn’t ready for _that_ yet) they switched back.

‘So what’d you think?’ Dean asked, grinning expectantly.

‘I enjoy driving,’ Castiel decided. ‘It’s far slower than wings, but it’s more fun. You’re a good teacher, Dean.’

‘Well, it’s not my first time,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I taught Sam to drive too back in the day. You’re better than he is, though. I taught him in dad’s car just in case and he had a dent in it within the hour so the precaution paid off.’

‘Yet you trusted me to drive in your car.’

‘Hell, I’m trusting you to be my fake boyfriend, and you’ve gotta trust your boyfriend with your car.’

Castiel smiled at his lap so Dean hopefully wouldn’t realize just how much that meant to him. The little things meant a lot to him, more than they would to anyone else, because of the obvious. The angel thing. The uncared about for years thing. And suddenly, this.

A sudden thought occurred to Castiel, one he was afraid to voice at first due to the whole … thing from earlier, but he was going to tread more carefully this time.

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘You just did.’

‘Can I ask you _another_ question … after this one?’

Dean laughed, noting he’d picked up on it fast. Clever, clever man.

‘Ask as many as you want.’

‘You don’t _have_ to answer,’ Castiel stressed, seeing Dean nod in response, ‘but … how come you can speak so freely and easily about this pretend relationship, yet when it comes to the reality of one aspect of the relationship you sort of … close up?’

Dean paused for a while before he responded. He seemed to be thinking about his answer, or preparing himself to voice it.

‘It’s easier to talk about what’s not real than what is. You and me are not a gay couple of writers so I have no problem saying it. But then when there’s real stuff I’m not used to talking about I just …’

‘I understand,’ Castiel nodded, and he did. He could easily see how a false reality would be easier to talk about than a real one. ‘Then I’ll try and restrain from bringing up what’s real if that makes you more comfortable.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Dean told him, reaching sideways to pat his shoulder in a friendly gesture, ‘but if there’s something that really bugs you that you need to ask I guess that’s fine. You know now you can talk to me about anything, don’t you?’

‘I’m learning that,’ Castiel promised. ‘And you can talk to me about anything. I’ll answer to the best of my capabilities.’

‘Great,’ Dean nodded. ‘Well, I have a question.’

‘What’s your question?’

‘Who the _fuck_ invented spiders?’

‘… What?’

‘Who up there took a box of parts and decided, “hey, let’s make a creepy eight legged thing that everyone will hate!”?’

‘Dean, that’s not how it works.’

‘Humor me.’

‘Okay, fine,’ Castiel sighed, fishing around his mind for a response that Dean would find both amusing but could also be fitting. Spiders. Gross, evil things. ‘Lucifer.’

‘And who invented cats?’

‘Do you like cats?’

‘I don’t mind cats. I like them better than dogs. But I’m allergic.’

Allergic, but doesn’t not like them … sounded like a bad prank …

‘Gabriel.’

‘Knew it,’ Dean muttered.

‘And I invented pie,’ Castiel offered.

‘You’re my hero.

‘I’m flattered.’

‘But really,’ Dean pressed, ‘how does it work, if it’s not with a box of parts and some super glue?’

‘I’m sure it’s complicated, Dean,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I wasn’t around for the whole … inventing of what goes on the Earth. It’s likely that God personally chose everything the Earth would have, everything everything else would evolve into and maybe he still does to this day, wherever he is. He didn’t have angels help him … _invent_ things. He just made _everything_ , likely paying special attention to things that would mean something or play a vital role in life. For example, if he were to have a drawing board, I’m sure you and Sam were plastered all over it for days trying to get every last hair on Sam, every last freckle on you, correct.’

Dean listened to his assumptions. He liked them better than his own, which he occasionally dwelled on when he saw a weird looking tree, or like when he discovered the existence of the blob fish when googling “ugly animals” to send to Sam with the caption ‘is this you?’

‘Cas, I’m not that important. You’re probably right about Sam’s hair though.’

‘Dean, please don’t call yourself unimportant,’ Castiel requested. ‘Because you are. You’ve been vital to the survival of the world for years, you and Sam single handedly saving it time and time again. And more importantly, you’re important to the people around you. Your friends. Your family.’

‘Cas, without me around Sam would be a fancy lawyer right now with a wife and kids, and the apocalypse wouldn’t have started in the first place.’

‘Without you around this morning I would have woken up on a cold floor and be serving an endless line of customers right now.’

‘Without me around you wouldn’t be here in the first place.’

‘I’m glad I _am_ here.’

‘You are?’

‘Yes. The world … it’s a messed up place, but I’d rather be here than how I was before. A controlled soldier of a broken cause.’

‘You were never just a controlled soldier,’ Dean scoffed. ‘You always had a mind of your own. You just needed someone to help you tap into it.’

‘You just listed another reason why you’re important.’

Dean fell silent, frowning, and then he understood. He couldn’t have stopped from smiling even if he wanted to and felt thankful for the fact that even if he didn’t believe it, he seemed to have had a lasting impact on at least one person’s life that was good.

‘It’s ironic, hearing God’s favorite angel telling me _I’m_ important, when you were probably up on that board for weeks to get you all figured out,’ Dean shot back, trying not to reveal exactly how much Cas’s comment had meant to him but _damn_ , that guy unknowingly said some of the sweetest things. He wondered what he’d do if he knew what Dean thought of everything he said.

He wondered where the hell the word “sweetest” had come out of in his head.

‘God’s favorite,’ Castiel repeated. ‘I highly doubt that.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Dean, everyone knows God’s favorite was Lucifer.’

‘Yeah, to start off with. But now it’s you.’

‘I wish I could believe that.’

‘Yeah, I wish you could believe that too.’

Castiel stared at him, but Dean didn’t elaborate. Castiel didn’t force him to. Instead he just fell into silence, some of the pre-fight tension creeping into the car again like an unwelcome ghost sitting in the back seat and slowly caressing the backs of their necks and whispering strange words that made no sense in context like ‘moist’ and ‘mayonnaise’ therefore enforcing the silence.

_Yeah, I wish you could believe that too …_

Cas wished things were simpler.

He wished he could just climb into the car, laugh and joke like Sam could, have things easy going and tension free and then the case would go off without a hitch. They wouldn’t be going in circles, playing the same old mind games inside their own heads and sabotaging themselves from having a real, completely honest conversation.

Maybe that was why they’d never spent an extended amount of time alone together. Maybe they just _couldn’t._

But then Dean spoke.

‘So who invented snakes?’

And everything was okay again.

They went back and forth for a while, and it was fun, and Cas forgot all about the thought that they couldn’t be alone together. Dean would name a creature and Cas would name an angel. If Dean knew the angel he’d name nothing but the angel, but if he didn’t, Cas would add his reason for choosing said angel from his own pre-Dean experiences with them, even making up stories that were barely believable, but to Dean, who knew nothing about these angels, they were just stories.

‘So who invented _elephants_? That’s the real question here,’ Dean said eventually, as he’d gone through most of the animals found in zoos.

Castiel thought for a moment and suddenly a memory sprang into his head, accompanied by a joke he would _never_ make. It was a joke Dean might make, alright, but he would never even _think_ of it to make.

But he _had_ thought of it.

‘Uriel.’

Dean frowned, casting his mind back, searching for why that name sounded so familiar.

‘That guy who you used to be with all the time?’ he asked, then remembered his old nickname for his oh-so favorite (not) angel, ‘Junkless?’

‘Yes, him.’

‘Why him?’

‘Where do you think his … _junk_ went?’

Dean stared at Cas, his jaw dropping open at the fact those words were actually coming out of Cas’s mouth. Then again, the guy had actually had _sex_ – like, sex, real, naked sex with a real naked female – a few weeks ago, so it’s not exactly like the guy was oblivious. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much.

And of course there was that whole pizza man thing from a few years ago that he could never forget but _so_ did not want to think about.

‘Dude,’ Dean said, pretending to gasp in admiration for the junkless Uriel, ‘the trunk?’

‘Yes, Dean. The trunk.’

‘But elephants trunks are so …’

‘Uriel was a failed experiment,’ said Cas, ‘of what humans were supposed to look like. It went horribly wrong. It was too big.’

It was like hearing a priest swearing. Dean didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or declare his pride from the rooftops.

‘Usually I’d say there’s no such thing as too big, but damn …’ Dean muttered, shaking his head in complete and total admiration. ‘So then … who put the trunk on mammoths?’

_If you say you did you little shit, I swear I’ll crash this car._

‘That would be Lucifer. It was made to match his personality.’

 _Oh my fucking god,_ Dean hissed at himself in his head, _I’m gonna crash this car._

‘That, my friend,’ Dean said proudly, _barely_ containing the complete and utter shock that Cas was making _dick jokes_ , ‘was the most inventive way of calling someone a dick _ever_. I applaud you.’

‘Thank you.’

For some reason it was weirdly satisfying to hear Cas talk about this stuff. Like a, _hell yeah, Cas is talking about dicks_ sort of thing. Like, it’s not as if the guy didn’t _have_ one, and he clearly knew what it was for and how to use it … he’d _done_ that, now he was acknowledging the existence of dicks on other people and Dean didn’t know why the hell he was dwelling on that fact and now he’d thought the word dicks so much it had turned completely alien and lost all meaning.

Dean felt a stirring somewhere he definitely didn’t want to be feeling one right now.

 _Stupid bisexuality_ , he thought, _making me like thinking about dicks_.

Because that was obviously why he was finding enjoyment in thinking about this whole thing. It was the _dick_ thing. Not necessarily a _Cas’s_ dick thing, just a dick thing in general.

He did not have a thing for _Cas_.

He just had a thing for _dicks_. It had been almost two months since the last time he’d hooked up with a guy, almost a month since he’d been with a _chick_ , even, so he was getting a little … frustrated. He wondered if he had enough lube hidden in his bag to have a long shower tonight. His dick needed attention ASAP, and he needed something in his ass, even if it was only his own fingers. He had an imagination. He could imagine it was Doctor Sexy, like he always did.

Pretty, dark haired Doctor Sexy, manly yet sensitive, saving the world – lives, he meant lives – of many, day in and day out …

Fuck. His dick _did_ need some attention, but he didn’t mean _now_.

‘Who invented the blob fish?’ Dean asked, trying to force his mind away from the whole dick-like area of things.

‘Someone ugly, probably,’ was Cas’s first response, and the sass stung Dean like he’d stepped on a wasp’s nest. Cas seemed to be stepping away from the making up stories about angels thing now, and Dean could dig that.

‘Who invented maggots?’

‘The same person who invented spaghetti.’

‘Oh my god,’ Dean said out loud.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ Dean covered quickly. If he started saying all of his thoughts out loud, he was screwed.

‘I’d like to try spaghetti,’ Castiel mused.

‘Maybe we can cook some,’ Dean suggested. ‘When we get to the place we’re gonna live, you know.’

‘ _You_ can cook spaghetti?’

‘Yes,’ Dean said defensively. ‘Don’t underestimate me, angel man. Don’t you dare underestimate my abilities. I’m more than just an amazing hunter and a pretty face.’

‘… “Angel man?”’

‘Who invented … pelicans?’ Dean switched topics back quickly.

He couldn’t let his guard down and start throwing out stupid nicknames that would probably make Cas think things that were … not things Dean wanted him to think about. He didn’t know what those things were, he just knew they weren’t something he wanted out there.

The subject they were discussing lasted until Dean ran out of animals. Silence fell over them again and Dean fell into thought about what Cas had said earlier, about not wanting to say something wrong.

They were friends, that was obvious. Dean knew it, Cas knew it, but they weren’t like _normal_ , hang out with pizza and a movie, go out for drinks type friends. Their relationship was … different. But still, they should be able to _talk_ without it being stressful, shouldn’t they? Or had there been so many years of pent up … _whatever_ that it made it hard?

He could tell Cas was still holding back, it was an obvious thing. He momentarily would come out of his shell, and then spring back in like an elasticated snail once the moment was over and they were back to square one. Dean felt bad for him. He knew what it was like to hold back a part of yourself and hide behind it. Goodness knew he hid behind defenses all the time. It was an automatic thing, something he couldn’t help, something he was trying hard not to do with Cas. He didn’t want to be too gruff with the guy, he just wanted to give him one good experience after giving him so many bad ones.

It was both easier and more difficult not to build up those walls, throw up a shield in front of anything said to him that scared him slightly. It was easier because it was Cas, and he knew it was Cas, and he’d always felt like he could tell Cas almost anything. The guy was an angel, he’d seen it all, right? So why should Dean be afraid to tell him something he knew he wouldn’t tell anyone? But then, it was hard, because it was _Cas_ , and they’d been through so much, and there was something between the two of them that just … made Dean feel the need to throw on the armor, hoist up the walls. He usually did that when he felt scared or panicked by something. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was that made him feel scared or panicked around Cas.

Maybe it was just … Cas himself.

He was a little intimidating, actually.

Those curious but steady blue eyes that could almost see straight into his soul, he was certain of it. Even now he was human, the intense gaze hadn’t changed.

And that smile. A sort of half smile, that when it reached his eyes, made them light up like fireworks above the ocean making the water glow. And even rarer than his usual smile, his _bigger_ smile where he smiled with his teeth, where you could tell he was really, really happy. Dean wondered why he still often looked sad when he smiled.

Then there was the laugh, more rare than either smile, but more present in the past twenty four hours than in the past five years. That was how long they’d known each other – five years. They’d passed the five year mark the month before last. And still, it was a blessing – no angel pun, just a word choice – to hear Cas laugh, because it meant he was doing something right. It wasn’t a particularly _big_ or _loud_ laugh, it mostly sounded like an exhalation of air if it was just a simple laugh at something normal that was amusing but not overly so, but then there was the laugh he’d _never heard_ until last night, during Ted, when the TV fell on John, then later during Just Go With It when the kid screamed “that man just put his pee pee on my face!” and the reply was “He put his face on my pee pee!”

That laugh, man. Hearing it was like music. It meant Cas was _happy_. The closest thing to it he’d heard was that one time when Cas was out of his mind and blew all those light bulbs in that hospital after what was possibly the most adorable yet oddly sinister “pull my finger” joke in the history of “pull my finger” jokes.

Dean wondered where he’d heard that joke. Sam, probably. Sam made that joke a lot. Oh man, if Cas had gotten that joke from Sam, he felt sorry for Cas because of what he’d had to endure with it. Being next to Sam after he’d had anything that made him remotely gassy was like stepping into a room full of raw sewage.

And then Dean froze when he realized he’d called Cas “adorable.” Well, called his joke that – and sinister, he had to remind himself he’d called it sinister too. He suddenly felt the need for a wall building up, but he didn’t know what he was building that wall against. He didn’t know what he was shielding himself from. Just a second ago he’d been marveling at his favorite things about Cas that made him so _Cas_ and now he was sprinting away with a shield held up.

He didn’t understand.

‘Dean?’

Cas’s voice jerked Dean out of his jumped and panicked thinking. The voice that was again, so Cas. No other version of Cas spoke the way Cas did. Not the guy who used to be his vessel before Cas just became Cas, not that actor guy who was Cas in that weird alternate universe – _Misha?_ – and not Cas when he was messed up, possessed by Leviathans and whatnot.

It was just _Cas_.

‘Yeah?’ Dean responded, glancing at Cas and falling subject to his surveying gaze.

‘It’s just … you’re quiet,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You seem to worry when I get quiet. I was just returning the action.’

‘I was just thinking,’ Dean shrugged, attempting to clear his head.

They both seemed to be doing a lot of thinking. The quiet and just thinking situation was cropping up a lot today.

‘About what?’

‘There’s just …’ Dean struggled to voice his thought without making it about Cas. ‘There’s so many things about … people, y’know? That makes them who they are. Like, there’s this one doctor on a TV show you know is him because of his hair and his cowboy boots. But people could still dress up as him. There’s this annoying business man you know by his orange skin and catch phrase of “you’re fired!” But people could still paint themselves and quote him. You know the, say, the Queen of England by the fact that she’s an old lady in a crown. But any old lady can buy a fake crown. And then there’s some people that _every last thing_ about then is just so _them_ and no one else. And you can’t fake that.’

‘That’s all true, I guess,’ Castiel mused, thinking about it in his head, trying to come up with his own examples. He didn’t really have many to fit. ‘But to someone, each person with just one or two defining characteristics that others can copy, is a person who it’s impossible to mimic.’ 

Dean frowned. He didn’t get it.

‘What do you mean?’

‘To someone, that doctor or that annoying business man or the Queen of England are all people who can’t be recreated. There’s someone in each of their lives who thinks that they’re so _them_ that no one else could ever fake it. It depends on how you feel about that person, whether you like them and whether you pay attention to all of the little things about them, good and bad.’

‘I suppose …’

‘For example, to some, you may just be the good hunter with the green eyes, yet still someone could grow to be a good hunter and put in contact lenses colored green if they don’t already have green eyes.’

‘But to others?’

‘To others, you’re completely impossible to recreate, even if whoever tried got everything completely perfect in their impersonation, they could never be _you_ because only _you_ can be you.’

Dean supposed he was just using him as a random example that he’d understand better than a made up person, or maybe someone Cas cared about enough to feel that way about. Dean wasn’t sure there _was_ anyone like that in Cas’s life, but he couldn’t assume.

‘Makes sense,’ Dean nodded. ‘If you think about it that way … I don’t even know why I was thinking about it in the first place. Ignore me.’

‘No,’ Castiel countered. ‘No, I’m not going to ignore you. It proves an interesting point that in the billions of humans on this planet, no one is exactly like the other. No one of _anything_ is exactly like the other.’

‘Come on, there must be something that’s identical to another thing.’

‘I’m telling you, there’s not,’ Castiel insisted. ‘No blade of grass grows the same way as another blade of grass grows. No nacho tastes the same as the last – believe me, I know, I ate a lot of free nachos when I was working in that store. No two stars shine the same way, no two snowflakes look the same even though the all sort of just look like white clumps as they fall. No two freckles on someone’s face are alike. Even if you directly clone something there’ll be a difference in the way they turn out, even if they’re supposed to be identical to start with.’

Fuck. Cas _definitely_ had a point there. And it was a fact that he’d heard, that no two snowflakes look exactly alike. And as for freckles, surely he could inspect that and see what he was on about. All he needed was a mirror and to be alone so he wouldn’t look stupid just staring at his own face.

But Dean could not and would not let Cas win.

‘What if I took a pen and a piece of paper and drew two dots? Like, just touched the pen to the page twice in the exact same way, and the two dots came out looking identical?’

Castiel considered it.

‘The dots are made with two different bits of ink. It may be the same ink, but it’s different bits of it.’

‘Damn it,’ Dean muttered. He was annoyed to find he couldn’t find another thing to try and trick Cas with. ‘Fine. Nothing’s identical. You win.’

‘I don’t win,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘I’m just right. And speaking of ink and writing – do you remember when you wrote on my hand yesterday?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘An underage boy who was attempting to buy alcohol asked me if I was a male prostitute and asked if that was my next appointment. I’m almost certain it was a flirtation in attempt to get me to sell him the alcohol despite the law prohibiting me from doing so. His tone certainly seemed to reflect so.’

Dean looked at him for a minute to make sure he was serious. And then he realized of course he was serious, he was _Cas_.

And that’s when the laughter started.

‘What’s so funny?’ Castiel asked, frowning at Dean’s uncontrollable laugh, that he could keep subdued but couldn’t keep from coming out.

Every time Dean managed to stop, he started again. Eventually, he asked, ‘are you?’

‘Am I what?’

‘Are you a male prostitute?’

‘Of course not!’

‘Hey man, look, I’m not judging. I don’t know what you got up to before I came along –’

‘Dean, stop.’

‘I don’t know that whole April situation, I mean –’

‘Shut up, Dean.’

‘– maybe she paid you, I’m not gonna ask questions or –’

‘Shut the _fuck_ up Dean.’

That, Dean shut up at. He glanced at Cas with his eyebrows raised like he did every time he’d heard Cas swore – it was just _weird_. Because of the angel thing. But then, he guessed, Cas wasn’t an angel anymore. But he had been at the peak of his swearing habit – purgatory was full of fucks and shits and a _fucking die already you bastard_ when it came to this one monster that kept springing back at him no matter what he did. Dean remembered being shoved roughly against a tree, out of the way as the thing lunged for him and Cas lunged right back at that thing.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel said politely, once Dean had been silent for around thirty seconds.

It wasn’t even sarcastic. It was a real, genuine thanks, because Dean had shut up. God, that was so _Cas_.

‘So, did you sell him the alcohol?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, come on! He flirted with you for it!’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied curtly, ‘but that doesn’t always get you what you want. You should know, you do it all the time and it only works out approximately half the time.’

‘Excuse you,’ Dean scoffed, ‘but it _always_ works with me. I’m practically irresistible. Just you try to resist me – be careful, or the whole fake relationship thing might make you fall madly in love with me.’

 _Fat chance of that happening_ , Dean’s thoughts hissed at him. _He’s an angel, what good are you to him?_

But he’s _not_ an angel.

_So? He was._

Well it doesn’t matter either way. It’s not like you _want_ him to fall madly in love with you. That’d be weird. He’s your friend. That’s a ridiculous concept.

‘You’d like to think that,’ Castiel replied. Dean noticed he’d paused before responding. Probably to think about how repulsed he was by the thought. ‘But I’m perfectly capable of resisting the charm you have that I have yet to see.’

‘Oh, if I turned on my charm, you definitely wouldn’t be able to resist.’

The laughter at the ridiculous statement was so loud that Dean was sure that it had escaped his head and filled the car. But Castiel didn’t seem to hear anything.

‘I think I would,’ Castiel said, a little boastfully.

‘Yeah, okay, we’ll see.’

_No we won’t._

Castiel deserved better than Dean. Hell, he even deserved better than a _fake_ thing with Dean, but that last part couldn’t be helped right now. Dean needed someone, and Cas was the perfect person for this.

He needed Cas.

No, he _wanted_ Cas.

If truth be told, he missed his best friend. It’s not like they ever did anything especially fun together, he didn’t miss the things they _did,_ he just missed _him_.

‘So, Cas,’ Dean said conversationally, changing the subject completely and attempting to keep things flowing, ‘how do you feel about a shopping trip tomorrow? We’ll need supplies to move in and stuff. I’m not even sure if the place comes furnished. And we’ve gotta get you some clothes of your own.’

‘I think furnishing and getting all of the supplies we need come before my clothing needs,’ Castiel frowned, wondering where Dean’s priorities were. ‘Unless you’d rather not have to lend me things starting as soon as possible.’

‘No, no!’ Dean said quickly. ‘You can wear my stuff for as long as you want whether you’ve got your own or not – I’ve got no problem sharing with you. It’s just, you mentioned shoes or whatever and mine aren’t going to fit you without being too tight, and there might be other stuff you want to get that I haven’t lent you.’

It’s not that Dean _couldn’t_ lend what he was thinking about, but it would have been pretty weird to just say “hey, here’s some of my underwear, go nuts.” (Pun slightly intended?) He was pretty sure sharing underwear was crossing a line – besides, he didn’t want to imply anything or make Cas feel uncomfortable. It’s just something that had crossed his mind when he saw Cas bend to pick up a bag earlier – his shirt had ridden up and Dean’s jeans, a little loose on him, had slipped down slightly and he saw a waistband that he was almost certain should have been white judging by the way it was discolored into a greyish faded type thing.  He was also pretty sure none of his underwear would actually fit Cas – they fit pretty well in the legs, but he could tell Cas’s thighs were bigger than his were. They were pretty big, actually.

Not that he’d been actively looking at Cas’s thighs, or at his waistband area, or that he was thinking about Cas in underwear at all. Just things he’d noticed accidentally without searching for them.

‘There are some things,’ Castiel acknowledged. ‘But I’d much rather we get set up first. I wouldn’t want to delay anything.’

‘Dude, you need to stop acting like you’re just … gonna be in the way,’ Dean sighed, feeling an urge to groan and go face forward onto the steering wheel. ‘You’re not. You deserve to have everything you need once we get there. Who cares if you buying clothes stops us buying, say, dishes? We’ll get takeout and eat out of the containers. We don’t get a couch? Well we’ll manage to get a bed and I can sleep in the shower. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to sleep standing up.’

‘It’s difficult and results in pain.’

‘I’m sorry?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows disapprovingly and shooting a look at Cas.

‘I didn’t want to sleep on the ground one night so I tried sleeping up against a wall,’ Castiel explained, shrugging as if it wasn’t a big deal. ‘I found it difficult to get to sleep, but once I did I awoke moments later having fallen to the ground. I grazed my knee in the process. It’s still healing. Humans heel annoyingly slow.’

Dean’s disapproving, eyebrows-raised look fell into a stooped-eyebrowed look of sympathy. It was more than sympathy, it was genuine sadness, and then a sudden stab of guilt like a knife up his ass. He swallowed back an uncomfortable look in his throat and it was all made worse about how Cas was speaking about it as if it were completely normal.

‘We’re gonna get the most comfortable mattress we can find,’ Dean promised, ‘and as many pillows that’ll fit on it. No more sleeping standing up, alright?’

Dean gave Cas a smile of encouragement, even though it felt like the evil queen from Once Upon A Time was squeezing his heart into dust. (Okay, maybe he’d come across it more than once.) He received a gentle, timid smile in return, which only made the evil queen’s hand grow stronger.

‘Tell you what,’ Dean decided, ‘if you’re so concerned about getting everything done, to save time we’ll split up. How about we hit up a shopping mall, I give you a couple hundred books and you go buy yourself whatever you need, and I’ll buy other stuff we need like … bed sheets.’

‘That sounds like a good time saving plan,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Why so much for clothes?’

‘Shoes can be expensive,’ Dean told him, ‘and pants can be pretty up there too. The jeans you’re wearing? Thirty bucks.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah. It’s weird, man, but whatever. Hey – any bedsheet preferences?’

‘Preferences like what?’

‘Like any color preferences or patterns or anything?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘Not really.’

‘Come on, you don’t have a favorite color?’

‘Well … I guess I do. Why does that matter?’

‘What is it?’

‘Green.’

‘Interesting,’ Dean mused. ‘I’ll keep that in mind tomorrow.’

‘Dean, don’t buy things according to only _my_ preferences,’ Castiel frowned. ‘You need to take your own into consideration.’

‘Woah, hey slow down there man,’ Dean warned. ‘It’s not all about you. I’m just taking you into consideration. But if I don’t like what I see, I’m not buying it, even if I think you’ll like it. It has to be something I think we’ll both like – tell you what, I’ll send you pictures.’

‘Then we have a deal,’ Castiel smiled, satisfied.

‘It’s good to see you smiling, man,’ Dean blurted out stupidly, before he could stop himself.

‘Is it?’

‘Uh … yeah,’ Dean said quickly, trying to cover up a stupid thing he’d just thought out loud against his will, ‘because you’ve had a rough couple of weeks. And it’s good to see that you seem to be … a little better after it.’

‘Your kindness is helping a lot,’ Castiel admitted. ‘And your company. You’re not bad to be around, you know. I often find overexposure to certain people tedious – like one customer who used to come in every single day, spend an unusual amount of time browsing the magazine section, usually ending up in the pornography section, and then he would wander around for a while with a bag, spend an unnecessarily long time purchasing a drink, go to the bathroom, come out later, wander around again, return to the magazines and then leave.’

‘Let me guess,’ said Dean, ‘he was the mess you had to clean up in the bathroom last week.’

‘And every day after that,’ Castiel sighed, sounding a little pissed off. ‘And for some reason I was the only one who noticed his odd behavior. He probably brought the porn in there, so he wouldn’t have to buy it. And the drink – a decoy. An excuse so that it might look like he actually needed to use the bathroom.’

‘You’re too clever for him,’ Dean grinned.

‘Maybe,’ Castiel nodded, ‘but my point is, his conversation the first two, three times even as he paid for his drink was pleasant. But then he turned into the most boring man alive. And that hasn’t happened with you.’

‘Not sick of me yet, huh?’ Dean chuckled. ‘Wait a few days. See what you think of me then. Give it a week and you’ll be as sick of me as Sammy is.’

‘I thought you said you were the one who’s easy to live with?’

‘Tolerable,’ Dean corrected. ‘Not easy. Better than Rapunzel, but not … great.’

‘Thank you for the warning.’

‘Any time, pal.’

‘And,’ Castiel added, branching backwards slightly, but onto a different note of a former topic, or rather location of topic, ‘you were right, you know. Last week.’

‘Right about what?’ Dean questioned, frowning. He’d said a lot of things that day and that night.

‘When you said I was above … all that. The job,’ Castiel explained. ‘I still stand by my point. There _is_ a certain amount of human dignity within it … just not when you’re cleaning up the product of a man’s pleasure off of the floor.’

‘Ew!’ Dean protested. ‘The _floor_? Dude, use a tissue!’

‘And then of course there are people like him, who have no dignity.’

Dean laughed at how over it Cas sounded when he said it. It reminded him of an uncaring news anchor, reeling off the stories as they went with no real interest in them.

‘I guess you made a point with the whole human dignity thing,’ Dean allowed him some wiggle room, where last week he hadn’t. ‘That whole having a real job thing. Doing things for people. Being in charge of stuff. But I just … I hated seeing _you_ there. You said you failed as an angel so you were making it work as a human, but I don’t think you failed as an angel. Angel or human, it takes time to get to a point where you’re actually … not _failing_ at life. Look at me, I’m still not there.’

‘You save people,’ Castiel corrected. ‘You look out for your brother. You and Sam are both looking out for Kevin. You have a place to live and you have possessions and you have people around you who are about you. I don’t have any of that.’

‘You have me,’ Dean counter-corrected, glancing over at Cas, who seemed … dull, thinking about what he didn’t have. ‘And Sam. And Kevin’s pretty skeptical of you, but I’m sure once he got to know you like I do he’d be one of your number one fans.’

‘You say “one of” as if I have “fans.”’

‘You do,’ Dean informed him, grinning at the confused look he got in return. ‘A friend of ours. Charlie. Big fan of those Supernatural books. It was a while ago, before the whole angels falling thing, but the last time I saw her she mentioned you.’

‘She did?’

‘She thinks you’re “dreamy.” And that’s a compliment coming from her – dude, she’s so gay I had to guide her through flirting her way past a security guard one time. And don’t tell Sam I told you that, because I made him promise never to speak of it again.’

‘Sam was there?’

‘Oh, he was there alright. Almost blew the entire thing because he was laughing. Charlie was repeating everything I said, quoted me on “stop laughing Sammy” and then freaked out.’

Castiel gave a sniff of amusement, thinking that “stop laughing Sammy” would be an odd thing to say during a flirtation.

‘So Charlie couldn’t flirt with this guard because she’s gay, but you could flirt with him somehow because you’re …?’

‘Yeah, that’s exactly why I told Sam that if he ever brought it up again I’d shave his smug hairy head. That was after he brought it up the next day after I’d already told him not to mention it. Four times.’

‘I’m beginning to understand why you don’t want to tell Sam what you and I are doing.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean sighed, but it was laced with amusement, ‘the guy’s an ass. When he found out I like Doctor Sexy he wouldn’t stop calling me “Doctor” until I surgically altered his face while he slept. I gave him a nice new addition to it.’

‘You what?’

‘I drew a giant dick on his face in permanent marker.’

‘I’m sure he looked wonderful,’ Castiel replied sarcastically.

‘Oh, and this one time, he got on my ass for me liking Telenovelas.’

‘I dread to think about what you did to him then.’

‘I took him out for Latin food, put laxatives in it and watched him suffer.’

‘I sincerely hope I never do anything that angers you,’ Castiel replied, looking both horrified and like he was trying not to laugh. ‘Maybe I sensed this sinister side of you. That’s why I was … why I still _am_ so … y’know. Afraid of saying something out of line.’

‘Don’t be,’ Dean said quickly, softening from his “muahaha, I torture my rotten little brother” façade at once. ‘If you say something that’s out of line I’ll just push you back over it to the other side. That’s what everyone’s gotta do with everyone. Give them a “woah: back the fuck up there buddy” and then accept their apology.’

‘Alright,’ Castiel sighed, once again hearing it, but still having that onset worry that he wanted to attempt to force out once and for all. ‘Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

Castiel took a breath.

‘Hola, doctor. Cómo estás?’

‘Oh, soy bueno,’ Dean replied, casual as ever, then getting angry sounding at the end, ‘just thinking about stopping for ice cream and fucking _ex-lax_. Hope you like shitting, smart guy.’

Castiel winced.

‘That’s one of my least favorite parts of humanity, actually,’ he sighed – though the sigh sounded a little … falsely dramatic? ‘If I apologize will that make it better?’

Dean sighed, also overdramatic.

‘Well, since you’re a first time offender …’

‘Lo siento.’

‘Suck a dick.’

‘I hope that’s not an invitation,’ Castiel said disapprovingly. ‘We haven’t even arrived in the location in which we’ll need to fake our relationship yet, and I should remind you it’s _not real_. I highly doubt _that_ is something we’ll need to do in public.’

‘Speaking of the location and being in public,’ Dean realized suddenly, ‘the, uh, LGBT community seems to be pretty … tight knit, you know? Everyone knows everyone. Or at least everyone spies on everyone. What happens if someone sees us tonight and wonders why we’re getting a room with two beds?’

Dean didn’t want this thing to turn upside down before it had even started, before he’d even gotten to spend one day with Cas that didn’t involve just driving around. And Dean had heard about the open and embracing arms of that community – if you were one of them and you were seen by one of them and they suspected that you were one of them, you were practically best friends.

Or at least that’s what the website for the apartment building and surrounding area had said.

‘I … didn’t think of that,’ Castiel replied uncertainly. ‘What happens then?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean muttered, groaning internally. He did _not_ want too sound eager for this, but he didn’t want to mess up the case, either. He sighed. ‘I guess the second we’re driving on a road with a West Hollywood address, we’re a couple unless we’re behind locked doors. You okay with that?’

Castiel seemed, for once, to consider it, but then confidently replied, ‘I am if you are.’

‘Well, I am.’

‘Then I am.’

Castiel gave a small little smile that made Dean grin back at him a little too brightly and a little too goofily.

‘I’m glad you seem to be more relaxed, man,’ Dean told him, clapping him on the shoulder playfully.

‘It feels better, too,’ Castiel replied, though Dean still wasn’t aware he was possibly trying a little _too_ hard to seem cool.

‘I guess tonight we’ll just get a room with one bed and wing it,’ Dean sighed, back on the topic of what the hell they were going to do. ‘Sleep in shifts or something. Or maybe there’ll be chairs like last week.’

‘If there is, I want to be the one to sleep in the chairs this time,’ Castiel offered. ‘It didn’t look comfortable. After I woke up and you were still asleep it looked like you were about to fall.’

‘You’re saying it _didn’t_ look comfortable, but you’re offering to do it anyway?’

‘Yes? I want you to be the one who’s comfortable this time. We said we would alternate nights on the couch and in a bed when we get the apartment, so why not alternate this too?’

‘I _guess_ ,’ Dean mumbled, although he wasn’t exactly happy with Cas’s less than convenient self-volunteered sleeping place for the night. He didn’t like the sound of Cas sleeping on the couch either, for that matter. It would have to be one damn comfortable – ‘Sofa bed.’

‘What?’

‘That’s the kind of couch we should buy. If any nosy neighbors ask, we say it’s because I’ve got a super lonely forever-alone brother who might want to swing by and stay with us.’

‘I’m sure Sam won’t be alone _forever_ ,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘He’s a good person and quite an attractive man. I’m sure he’ll find someone _eventually_.’

‘Oh, attractive, is he?’ Dean asked with raised eyebrows. ‘Why not real date him after fake dating me? Have a go with both of us.’

Although Dean had to admit, the idea of Sam and Cas stung. It just didn’t … feel right. Maybe because Sam was so tall that he’d have to break his neck bending to …

Ugh. Not an image he wanted in his mind.

Sam could go break his neck making out with some chick even shorter than Cas if he wanted to. Or a pan or something – whatever the hell he was talking about in relation to that book he was reading or whatever. Something about sexual pans.

(Also, if he did admit it, the fact that Sam had started talking about that book to him in the first place was annoying. He’d been implying that Dean wasn’t straight for years, so a book all about sexuality being quoted at him didn’t help. He _wasn’t_ straight, but that wasn’t the point.)

‘Dean, I’m not interested in your brother,’ Castiel assured him. ‘I’m just not blind. You’re _both_ attractive, stating that fact doesn’t mean anything.’

Dean frowned, then smirked, feeling an odd satisfaction in the fact that Cas had just called him attractive.

‘I _think_ that was a compliment.’

‘If you choose to take it as one, there’s nothing I can do about that.’

‘I’ll take it.’

‘Well then you’re welcome.’

‘Thank you.’

The slight sass of Cas saying “you’re welcome” before Dean had even thought to thank him made Dean oddly proud.

‘We’re coming up to a rest stop and then once we turn off out of it we’re off the highway and onto a normal road,’ Dean noticed, spying the rest stop in the distance. ‘Feel like stopping so I can fill up the tank? I was thinking we could continue our driving lesson after.’

‘You trust me to drive on a road with other cars on it?’

‘Do you trust yourself?’

‘I _think_ so.’

‘Then I trust you,’ Dean shrugged, slowing down as they pulled into the stop. ‘Feel like a bag of chips or something while I’m in there?’

‘Salt and vinegar?’

‘You got it.’

Castiel seemed to hesitate.

‘Are there bathrooms in there?’ he asked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean confirmed, and then he had a sinking feeling that Cas had been waiting a while. ‘And just for future reference – if you need a break, ask.’

‘I will,’ Castiel promised. ‘I just thought that the less stops we make, the sooner we arrive.’

‘Who cares when we arrive?’ Dean asked. ‘Hell, if you just want to stop for _ice cream_ tell me and we’ll grab some. Hell yeah, I’m always down for that.’

They pulled up to the gas pumps and they both got out of the car. Dean began pumping the gas and Castiel looked at him over the roof of the car.

‘I’m not,’ Castiel said in slight horror. ‘I haven’t forgotten your threat.’

It took Dean a second to remember.

‘Oh yeah,’ he laughed, taking great enjoyment in Cas’s wariness of his joke. ‘Okay then not ice cream. Frozen yogurt or something.’

‘Aren’t those essentially the same thing?’

‘… No? What the fuck?’

‘Then what’s the difference?’

‘What’s the difference? _What’s the difference?_ Dude, go pee. And when you get back I’ll fucking _show_ you the difference.’

Castiel was actually first to return to the Impala where Dean had moved it off into a parking space. He’d seen Dean inside, paying presumably, and waited for him by the car. When he approached, he was holding two little tubs.

‘Got you some testers from the counters inside,’ Dean told him. ‘Both chocolate – I guessed you’d like chocolate the best. One is ice cream, the other’s frozen yogurt. Now _eat it_.’

Castiel did as requested with Dean watching him closely like an overbearing prison guard. He made sure to savor them both even though there were only two spoonfulls in each tub – not because of Dean’s watchful eye, but because he was genuinely curious – and he came out the other side a wiser man.

‘I was wrong,’ Castiel admitted. ‘Very wrong. I sincerely apologize.’

‘You fuckin’ better,’ Dean muttered, only in false anger, pointing a finger at Cas. ‘Now get behind the wheel and I’ll teach you how to reverse out of this space.’

Castiel went to walk around to the correct side of the car and then paused, making Dean pause too with his hand on the handle.

‘Where are my chips?’ he demanded.

Dean raised his eyebrows, pulled the chips out of the bag he was holding and tossed them to Cas. Castiel nodded his thanks and proceeded around to the appropriate driving side of the car with no further complaints.

Castiel was steady with his reversing, but relied heavily on Dean instructing him. He kept attempting to glance at Dean for encouragement as he made his way out of the parking lot and onto the highway, right in front of the exit, but he was terrified to take his eyes off the road at the same time. Once he was off, though, driving the few yards it took to get to the normal road, he felt more confident.

‘Slow down now,’ Dean instructed, as a car appeared ahead of them in the near distance. ‘Slower … slower … there. You wanna keep that much distance between you and the car in front of you. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Good,’ Dean grinned. ‘Maintain that speed. Now you can relax. I’ll tell you what to do when something comes up – music?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘I wouldn’t object to music.’

‘I’m feeling in a mixtape kinda mood,’ Dean decided, pulling out his tape collection and going through, finding one he made in his late teens with all of his favorite classic rock and a couple of other type songs on it. He slipped it in and Paranoid by Black Sabbath started playing.

‘Why is the light on that car flashing?’ Castiel asked.

‘Turn signal,’ said Dean. ‘They’re turning off onto that other road there – we’re going straight ahead. Want me to open your chips so you don’t have to take your hands off the wheel?’

‘If you wouldn’t mind.’

Dean did as he’d offered and put the bag leaning up against Cas’s leg. Castiel took one hand off the wheel, the other remaining steady on it, to start on the bag. Dean pulled out a bag of smoky bacon flavored chips for himself and dug into those, making sure he kept a careful eye on Cas and on the road and on the cars on the road.

‘Y’know you’re kinda pretty too,’ Dean mused amusedly, having had to stare at Cas so continuously.

‘What?’

‘Earlier. You said me and Sam were attractive –’ Dean realized with a sudden blow to the face that he’d just said “pretty” like a fucking idiot – ‘so I’m just returning the compliment. Call it an observation.’

Not exactly a new observation, but oh well.

Not that the fact that Dean had noticed Cas was attractive meant anything.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel replied, then he did that squinty frowny thing he often did, ‘despite your unusual choice of words.’

‘Yeah, well,’ Dean shrugged, brushing off his own slip-up that he had no idea of how it happened, ‘just practicing for later, I guess.’

‘I know,’ Castiel replied. ‘Or at least I guessed.’

Panic aborted. Not that there was anything to panic about – Dean _was_ just practicing. The slip up had been his subconscious mind telling him to get used to … that.

Although that didn’t stop him from wanting to dive head first out the window and die.

It’s not that … Cas _wasn’t_ “pretty”, because he was, but Dean thinking that didn’t _mean_ anything. It was like Cas had said earlier about himself, it applied to Dean too. He wasn’t _blind_. And it wasn’t like it was some kind of weird _bi_ thing to think about it. Anyone could see it.

Just because he found Cas attractive did not mean he was attracted _to_ him.

Being attracted to Cas would cause a whole number of awkward problems with this whole living together thing. So it was a good thing he wasn’t.

And with that self-affirmation intact, they were good to go.

Over the course of the next ten hours, them already having covered a good three in the fast-moving traffic, they grazed the surface of many topics. They stopped again before the next highway so Dean could take over driving, and as they drove Dean gave Cas some dos and don’ts of highway driving, ironically enough the song Highway to Hell started playing.

‘I reaaaally hope that’s an ironic coincidence and not a prediction of what’ll happen when I let you drive on one of these things,’ Dean muttered ominously. ‘Now watch – I’m changing lanes to overtake that slow ass loser.’

Castiel actually got his shot at highway driving when they stopped at the next rest stop, only to swap sides and keep on going. At first he was slightly slower than the other drivers, getting overtaken a few times, but eased into it and was hightailing it like the rest of the cars around.

‘I think you’re getting the hang of this,’ Dean grinned at him as Cas overtook a car that had been continuously slowing down for the last five minutes for no apparent reason.

‘I told you, I enjoy it,’ Castiel told him honestly. ‘I think it’s because it’s something I’m actually good at. It feels good to be good at something, so therefore I enjoy it.’

‘What do you mean something you’re “ _actually_ ” good at?’

‘It’s one of the few things that I’m good at.’

‘Cas, you’re good at everything I’ve ever seen you do … except interrogating people. Then you’re just awful.’

‘I’ve never _done_ anything to be good at,’ Castiel insisted. ‘I was bad at being an angel. I _thought_ I was good at being a human, until you made me realize that living to make everyone else happy and not myself wasn’t the right way to go. I’m just good at … driving.’

‘You were _not_ bad at being an angel,’ Dean replied sternly. ‘And you’re just _new_ at being human. You just need more time to adjust. You’re already adjusting. Three and a half hours ago you were barely speaking and now look at you. Driving and talking away like it’s all you’ve ever done.’

‘Name one thing I’m good at that I didn’t only just learn _today_.’

‘Listening,’ Dean was able to list off at once. ‘Planning. Figuring things out. Saying the right thing. Being a good friend. And knowing when you can’t handle something on your own and knowing who to call when that happens. Oh, and you found that case last week, remember? You seem to be pretty damn good at sniffing those out. Why aren’t you saying anything?’

Dean got the feeling that if Cas didn’t have to keep his eyes on the road, he would have been looking down quietly. He had that sense about him.

‘I’m not saying anything because I didn’t know those were things I was good at,’ he admitted. ‘Or that being good at those things matters.’

‘They matter,’ Dean promised him. ‘Believe me. They may not matter to everyone, but at least they matter to me. And they should matter to you.’

‘I’ll try to let them,’ Castiel swore, ‘but I find it difficult. I just … don’t feel like I’m supposed to have good things. You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Oh believe me, I understand.’

Dean understood all too well. Castiel had just described his entire life – and it stung to think that Cas felt that way. For some reason Dean took it personally, like it was his fault Cas felt like that. Maybe it was. There were things he wished he could say, an attempt at trying to make it better but … he couldn’t say them.

So instead, he changed the subject, back to the safest one he could think of. He’d had time to come up with a few new animals.

‘Who invented iguanas?’

But the unsettled feeling stayed with him, along with guilt and a mixture of other things he was too afraid to try and place.


	5. It's Not Weird Unless You Make It Weird

After animals he moved on to weird foods, after foods they fell silent. The radio cranked out song after song. The conversation picked up again at their next stop, where Dean took over from driving because Cas had had enough and it was easier for Dean to just drive there without having to give Cas directions. The reason the conversation picked up was because Dean was tired of it lagging, so he decided to ask Cas a question.

‘So besides chocolate, what other flavors of ice cream do you like?’

Ice cream was on his mind because he spotted some when buying them some drinks to keep hydrated on the road.

‘I liked what I had of the cookie dough last night,’ Castiel thought about it. ‘And what I had of the peanut butter cup flavor. And when I worked in the store I tried some strawberry and some mint, which are also good. Besides that, I don’t know any other flavors besides plain.’

‘You’re missing out,’ Dean told him seriously. ‘Like seriously missing out. Tell you what, I’m making it my personal mission to make sure you get to taste every single ice cream flavor we come across,’ Dean decided. ‘I’m going to make you my personal project. I’m going to shove as much of the stuff you’ve been missing out on as possible at you.’

‘Dean, you really don’t have to do that.’

‘But I want to,’ Dean insisted. ‘You deserve it.’

‘Do I?’

The fact that Cas had to ask was painful. The fact that he didn’t take Dean’s word for it without questioning it was even more painful.

‘I wouldn’t say you did if you didn’t,’ Dean replied, as sincere as he’d ever been. ‘Let me do this for you.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel accepted the offer.

‘Great. I’ll make this … however long … a time you won’t forget in a hurry.’

‘I doubt I could forget it whether I was your new “personal project” or not.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Dean grinned.

Dean began making a plan of the different kinds of things he’d get Cas to experience at once, lapsing into silence again albeit a more comfortable one than the last. Of course food was a big thing. He needed to try as many different takeout options as possible, foods from different places around the world and of course he’d promised him spaghetti. And there were drinks, too – sodas and milkshakes and different coffee drinks and hot chocolate and weird tasting tropical juices made from weird fruits that were surprisingly good, not that Dean ever let on to Sam that he liked the weird juices he bought.

He had to take him to the movies at least once and he had to take him out to a bar. It was true he’d done that last thing before, but that was to get a spell ingredient. And look at the mess than caused. This time it would be normal. They could play cards and darts and pool, and it would be fun.

And they had to, _had to_ do Christmas. It was only a month away and they’d likely be there for it anyway. Maybe they’d even get to ring in the New Year, get wasted and eat junk food and watch fireworks. Maybe even get some illegal fireworks like Dean had done for Sam when they were kids. It would be a welcome change to have some fun for once.

He would make sure that at least once, Cas would stay up all night binge watching some stupid TV show.

He was going to make sure Castiel knew how appreciated he was, and he wasn’t going to ask for anything in return.

Well … besides the obvious.

The tape came to a sudden, abrupt end, snapping Dean out of his own head.

‘Mind reaching under the seat and pulling out my tape collection?’ Dean asked Cas, who had been looking out over the road with a relatively bored look on his face, a bottle of Pepsi (as he requested) in his lap.

‘Of course not,’ Castiel replied, bending to pull the box out between his feet. ‘What tape do you want?’

‘Anything. Unless it has a blue sticker on it, then it’s Sam’s from back when we were kids, and his taste in music makes my ears bleed.’

Castiel gave out his little exhalation of a laugh and a one-sided quirk of a smile as he reached into the box and pulled out something that turned out to be Van Halen once Dean put it in. But Castiel kept the box between his feet and pulled out a book, frowning at it as he did. It looked very old and worn.

‘What’s this?’ he questioned, reading the title. ‘“A Game of Thrones?”’

‘Oh, me and Sam read that sometimes if we get bored on long trips.’

‘It looks like you’ve had it a long time.’

‘Yeah, since the year it came out. There’s a show based on it too, but we haven’t watched it. We promised Charlie – I told you about her – that we’d watch it with her.’

‘Could I …?’ Castiel gestured the book again, holding it up.

‘Go ahead,’ Dean nodded, glad he was actually asking and not waiting for Dean to ask him whether he’d like to read it or not. ‘Just don’t lose our places wherever they are. And mark your own if you want.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Castiel promised.

Dean was glad that there was no pressure on them to talk. It was odd. He and Sam spent hours in the car together and there was never any strange intense pressure to keep a conversation going, but with Cas he felt like he needed to so Cas wouldn’t think he was bored of him, or ignoring him, or that he’d done something to piss Dean off. Dean had been told that he had a “resting bitch face.”

Dean hoped they’d get the point where the pressure had boiled off at some stage. But right now, he’d just let Cas read, he’d listen to music and there would be no pressure to do anything unless it came up.

Glancing at Cas every five minutes or so was a fun thing to do. He could see Cas was fully engrossed in the book an only put it down to drink. It was easy to lose track of time and it soon became measured in songs and the distance they’d driven, Dean asking a Westeros-dwelling Cas to pass him another tape once Van Halen had finished. The next one that went in was REO Speedwagon, the first track being “Can’t Fight This Feeling” which was one of Dean’s favorites, although he did prevent himself from singing along to it at an immensely high volume so he wouldn’t disturb Cas.

Or terrify him for that matter.

It seemed like the tape had only just begun when it ended and Dean turned to Cas to ask for another one, but noticed that Cas had fallen asleep with his head against the window, the book closed over his thumb.

‘Well at least he’ll keep his place,’ Dean muttered, chuckling at the sight and turning off the radio completely.

Dean let Cas sleep. He’d had a decent night’s sleep last night, but was probably still overtired from all of the bad ones before it, and it was nine o’clock, and if Cas really wanted to sleep on some chairs tonight …

Dean sighed. He wanted to talk Cas out of that stupid decision, but he didn’t want to be too forceful about it. Maybe he could trick Cas into hanging out on the bed watching TV tonight  if there was a TV while Dean took a long shower and Cas would fall asleep the way he had last night.

The thought of taking that long shower made Dean yearn for them to arrive sooner. Fuck, the slightest thought about it put him on edge today. He found himself wondering if Cas had ever felt this kind of way or if there were any long showers or something akin to them in _his_ future. Like, surely the guy must have thought about it, he’d had _sex_ for crying out loud, and was human, and not exactly looking like he was in his forty-fifties physically, so he must have woken up with good ol’ morning wood _at least_ once–

 _What the fuck?_ Dean hissed at himself. _Stop thinking about that, it’s fucking weird._

He glanced over at Cas looking peaceful and innocent and suddenly felt like he’d disrespected him in some way, something he’d never intended to do. He tried to keep his weird ass thoughts in check and switched over to trying to think about what the hell he was going to say to the person behind the desk in the first motel they found close to the apartment building when getting that room with one bed.

Cas stayed asleep for the last few hours of the journey. This worried Dean with his whole “hopefully he’ll fall asleep” plan. It meant Cas might not be tired enough to fall asleep, no matter how long Dean took.

It was late when they arrived, but without the time difference it would have been later. He decided to wake Cas once they were at the motel nearest the apartment building. He’d been asleep for a good three hours and Dean gently shook his shoulder and quietly gave a low ‘Cas?’ so as not to startle him.

Cas’s eyes blinked open and his face immediately fell into a frown.

‘Dean,’ he mumbled, pushing himself up away from the window he’d slouched towards. ‘What time is it?’

‘Ten after eleven, but ten after midnight where we drove up from,’ Dean told him, speaking quietly still. ‘Here, let me get that.’

Dean reached out and took the book, dog-earing the page as Cas righted himself, yawned and looked around him, his eyes adjusting to the darkness outside and the lights coming from the building they were parked by … and then he looked around and the lights were everywhere. City lights he hadn’t seen in a long time, since he was running with the tablet trying to keep it from Naomi.

‘Are we there?’ he asked, looking at Dean with a mixture of confusion and prolonged tiredness.

‘Yeah, buddy. We’re there,’ Dean assured him, chuckling at his squinty-eyed confusion. ‘You want me to bring this inside?’ he asked, holding up the book.

‘Yes,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’d like to finish it, if you don’t mind. I’ll be very careful with it, it seems fragile.’

‘I know you will,’ Dean nodded. ‘You’re careful with everything. Take as long as you need.’

Okay, the “you’re careful with everything” was a bit of a stretch, but he knew in every corner of his mind that Cas would never, ever be anything less than careful with one of Dean’s possessions.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel smiled at him, his smile tired but there. ‘So … we’re here.’

‘Yeah, we are.’

‘And that means …’

‘Yup.’

‘So what do we …?’

‘I … suddenly don’t know … what we do,’ Dean admitted, nerves hitting him suddenly like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head. ‘We need to go in. Check in. One bed. Act … coupley.’

‘Coupley … _how_?’

‘I …’ Dean sighed.

Don’t panic.

_But this is gonna be awkward_

No, it’s not. You got this. It’s only awkward if you let it be. But you and Cas are good enough friends for this.

_But you–_

He took a deep breath, cutting himself off.

‘You look tired,’ Dean responded strategically, ‘so try to look even _more_ tired and lean on me. It won’t be like we’ve got our arms around each other it’s just like … I’m supporting you. Because you’re low energy or something.’

‘But what do I say?’

‘You’re tired. Just smile if whoever it is looks at you and respond if they speak to you. Got it?

‘Got it. Although, I’m less tired now that I have to think clearly about things.’

‘Well pretend,’ Dean instructed, ‘now get out of the car and look gay and hopelessly in love with me.’

‘How does one look … “gay?”’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean said, internally cursing himself because there was no way someone who wasn’t a complete stereotype could just “look gay” unless they played that stereotype. ‘Ignore that part. Focus on the second part.’

‘I’ll do my best.’

Dean nodded and got out of the car. He tried not to dwell on the fact that Cas hadn’t asked how to do that last part.

Not that it mattered.

Dean grabbed an overnight bag out of the trunk and locked the car, then made his way around to Cas’s side where Cas was waiting for him. There was a slightly awkward moment – a moment where they struggled with their arm placement and the unusual closeness – but then they got it. Cas’s arm around Dean’s lower back, Dean’s arm just below Cas’s shoulders around his upper back. Dean felt oddly aware of the fact that there was just a thin shirt between his hand and Cas’s skin when usually there was three layers of fabric, one of them a thick and heavy coat and the other a relatively thick suit jacket.

‘Don’t forget,’ Dean whispered, as they walked towards the doors of the check-in area, stumbling slightly, ‘tired.’

Castiel did his best and let his face fall free of all expression, letting his eyelids droop slightly as he walked so it looked as though he didn’t feel like he had the energy to open them back up the entire way after blinking.

‘Hi,’ Dean greeted the woman at the front desk. ‘We’d like a room, please? Just for one night.’

She smiled at Dean warmly, and then at Cas, who smiled lazily, doing his best to appear tired and like he was leaning against Dean, although he was avoiding putting any weight against him and was in fact waking up more by the second.

‘A double?’ she presumed, then politely adding, ‘or two singles?’

‘A double,’ Dean replied confidently, although he was surprised his voice hadn’t come out in a terrified croak.

The woman briefly turned away and then presented them with a key.

‘Room seven,’ she smiled.

‘How much?’

‘Sixty.’

Dean accepted the key and then realized he was going to have to let go of Cas to get his wallet out.

‘Hey, can you manage to not fall asleep on your feet for a sec?’ Dean asked Cas, wondering if Cas really was that tired or whether he was just good at pretending. Castiel nodded. ‘Here, hold these.’

Dean handed him the key and the book he was still holding. The bag was hauled over one shoulder securely so he didn’t need Cas to hold that. He reached into his pocket and pulled a fifty and a ten out of his wallet and put them on the desk. He tucked his wallet away, took the things back from Cas and returned his arm around the tired-looking man at his side. He thanked the woman when she wished them a good night and the two of them headed in silence outside. There was a sign saying rooms seven to ten were to the left, so they rolled that sign in silence, keeping up their façade just in case, until they reached their room.

Once they were inside they turned on the light dropped their arms, but the curtains were wide open.

‘Here, lock up,’ Dean said to Cas as he moved to take care of their little curtain problem.

Finally, they could relax.

It really wasn’t the best room, or the best motel. In the area it seemed either you stayed at the best place with floors and floors of fancy rooms or you stayed in a place with a carpet the color of vomit, sheets that were full brown and one lone chair in the corner of the room which was across from a TV in the other corner that had a crack on its screen.

‘So there is a … chair,’ Castiel muttered the last word distastefully as he reached it. Dean sensed the tone and followed him, looking repulsed at once. Cas noticed this and said, ‘I could flip the cushion?’

‘You’re not sleeping in that,’ Dean told him, straight up. ‘You’re not _touching_ that. You got the bed, I got the floor.’

‘Dean, no. The floor is hard. And this carpet looks like someone threw up on it.’

‘This carpet looks like someone _threw it up_ ,’ Dean corrected him, looking at the murky ground with a shudder.

‘Dean … there’s some of the stain from the chair …’

Dean noticed the odd brown stain and jumped away from the spot immediately.  

‘Okay,’ Dean said slowly, ‘so I’m not taking the floor.’

‘I would volunteer to take it …’ Castiel winced. ‘But I really don’t want to.’

Dean couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Rather be cleaning toilets?’

‘At least when I was cleaning toilets I had gloves.’

‘You can still have the bed,’ Dean decided, struggling to come up with a solution. He could sleep in the car, but … he’d be seen, probably. He could stay awake all night, but he didn’t feel like that would be happening, especially after that shower he had planned.

There was a third option, but that would be weird …

_It’s only weird if you make it weird._

‘There’s one thing, but you really don’t have to do it if you’re not comfortable,’ Dean stressed, before he’d even suggested it, ‘but we could both … _sort of_ … take the bed. I’ve done it with Sam once or twice – it’s like, you sleep normal, but I take a pillow to the end of the bed and do it like that. And above the covers. You can be under.’

Castiel paused. He reminded himself _Dean_ had suggested it, so Dean wasn’t against it. Although he didn’t seem enthralled with it … what else could they do?

‘That sounds doable,’ Castiel nodded.

‘Well, great,’ said Dean, though it wasn’t great at all, or at least wasn’t the perfect solution, ‘you need to use the bathroom? I wanted to take a shower.’

‘I won’t take long,’ Castiel promised.

‘Hang on,’ Dean said quickly, opening the bag and pulling out what Cas had slept in last night, along with his toothbrush and toothpaste, ‘here.’

‘Thank you.’

Castiel headed off towards the bathroom and closed the door behind him. Dean rapidly dove back onto the back and found his bottle of lube he’d transferred in there from another bag when getting it out of the trunk, and he pocketed it. Then he pulled out what he’d slept in last night too and his own tooth brushing stuff and pushed his bag off the bed onto the floor, avoiding the stain. He kicked off his shoes, very reluctant to take off his socks but he did it anyway figuring you couldn’t get an STD through your feet.

He hoped.

He sat down on the side of the bed to wait for Cas’s return. He noticed that Cas had left the book on the bed too, leaning up against the pillow like it was one of the most precious gems of the universe. Dean smiled, admiring how much Cas cared about things that weren’t his own.

Dean was gonna buy Cas a boxset of those books tomorrow when they split up.

Castiel emerged from the bathroom.

‘If I step on that will I die?’ he asked, pointing to the carpet.

‘Any open wounds on your feet?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Then I think you can risk it.’

Castiel stepped gingerly off of the grubby bathroom tiles and walked slowly towards Dean, feeling unusually tense. The sight of Dean sitting on the one bed was intimidating him, especially when he remembered they were both going to be on that, sleeping at the same time. It made him feel like he was the one crossing a line, but Dean had been the one to suggest it.

‘I’m going to read,’ Castiel decided. ‘I like Tyrion. And Jon.’

‘They’re the best characters in the entire damn thing,’ Dean grinned, getting to his feet and heading towards the bathroom. ‘Enjoy.’

‘I will.’

Dean nodded in parting and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Castiel found the bag and put the clothes he’d been wearing away, then went the rest of the way towards the bed and took the side of it he’d placed the book on. It was settled against the pillow neatly, in no danger of being damaged. Well, further damaged. He picked it up carefully and then gingerly got onto the bed, his legs at an angle in front of him, knees bent, and his back mostly against the wall, the pillow at his lower back.

He opened the book.

_He let the name hang there for a moment. The king frowned and said nothing. He looked uncomfortable._

He closed the book.

Uncomfortable was one word for what some of this day had been. Castiel still remembered the discomfort he’d felt that had led up to that fight and the sheer terror he’d felt when he thought Dean was going to leave him on the side of the road. But he realized now that fear had been stupid. Dean would never do that to him, he could see how hard he was trying to be nice, to be kind, to give Cas all he needed.

He could see Dean wanted to be doing all of that. Yet there was still a part of himself that screamed that Dean was only doing it because he thought he had to, that he secretly was tired of it, that Cas was just a burden and something that had to be dealt with. But there were the conflicting feelings drilled into him by Dean, the ones that countered all of that, the ones that said he wasn’t a burden, that he was Dean’s best friend and he would do whatever he needed.

Dean had always been Cas’s best friend. They’d formed a bond stronger than the one Cas had with Sam, there was always something more there. But Castiel had never felt like Dean felt the same, that their friendship was equal on both sides.

But Castiel, he thought proudly to himself, had made a dick joke. Something Dean did often. And then continued to make some sly jokes. He’d even made a joke just now, with the carpet thing. And that proved he must be starting to feel better about this whole situation, that it was getting easier …

Maybe.

It was still all a conflict of feelings. His own, and the ones Dean caused.

Dean, Dean, Dean. Dean’s book. Dean’s clothes. Dean’s case. The running water that he could hear through the wall of the shower Dean was in.

Castiel suddenly felt a little weird, that he was here, and just feet away, Dean was showering all … naked and stuff.

He forced his mind onto a different topic, looking down into his lap – ah, A Game of Thrones. A book where so far there had been sex, murder and more sex. Sex, which people had while naked. Which Dean was right now. In the shower. And this was also Dean’s book, and he’d read every filthy line and every clean one just the same.

He didn’t know if it was the human thing or the whole he’d just _had_ it thing, but sex was on his mind a lot lately. He hoped that next time he had it it wouldn’t be with a reaper intent on killing him. Or … maybe not even with a woman. His experiences with women hadn’t exactly been all that great. A demon hitting on him who he kissed once out of curiosity, a reaper he’d had sex with and who’d literally stabbed him to death after torturing him, a date that turned out to be a babysitting job.

And then a weird underage kid asking him if he was a male escort.

If truth be told, he was more curious … not about the kid, but about his gender. He figured he’d best try out _everything_ before he decided commit to something in the future. He ought to experiment and decide what it is he was … _into_ , as Dean would say. He didn’t have a lot of resources for that. Although Dean did say often the internet had everything. Maybe he’d find a way to look up some … _stuff_. Maybe buy some magazines. With pictures akin to that thing with that pizza man and that babysitter that had been oh so interesting a few years ago.

Castiel felt a familiarly inappropriate stirring he’d felt a few times over the years, more times of late. He groaned, ignoring it, and went back to the book.

Castiel lost track of time, and thankfully lost his former train of thought as he read. Some of the words as he read were familiar to him, the names too, and he recalled Metatron giving him knowledge of literature. Perhaps this book was one of the ones he’d had put in his head; the title had intrigued him for some reason after all … though maybe it was the book itself that had enthralled him from the first time he saw it. At first sight, for some reason he was almost certain it was Dean’s. He wanted to know the kind of things Dean read about.

He was a decent portion of the way into the book when Dean emerged from the bathroom looking damp but refreshed. Castiel glanced up at him out of habit and immediately looked away, feeling uncomfortable having seen him so … like that. And considering what he’d been thinking about … he almost felt the need to apologize, but he couldn’t do that without telling Dean he’d been thinking about him naked.

And that wasn’t normal. At all.

‘Like it so far?’ Dean asked.

Asked out of context and in relation to Cas’s thoughts that made Castiel panic, until he realized Dean, crouched by the end of the bed putting his clothes away, meant the book.

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered. ‘It’s very … intriguing. Each chapter makes me want to continue on to the next.’

‘Yeah, I know what you mean,’ Dean chuckled, on his feet again. ‘The first time I read it I ditched school four days in a row so I could finish it. Told the teachers I was sick when I got back. They bought it pretty well.’

‘You put reading a fictional book above your real life education?’

‘Hey,’ Dean shrugged, ‘reading is fundamental. Call what I was doing a history lesson.’

‘But it’s fictional.’

‘I didn’t say it was a history lesson from _our reality_. Someone else’s, maybe.’

Castiel smiled, looking down at the book again.

‘It’s a very violent … alternate reality.’

‘You think that’s violent,’ Dean said, huffing out a laugh, ‘wait until later. Or wait until later _books_.’

‘There’s more than one?’

‘Oh yeah. A series. Still ongoing – I can lend you the rest if you want,’ Dean offered, not about to let Cas know he was intent on buying him the rest anyway.

‘I’d like that,’ Castiel replied.

‘And if you and me live to see the next book come out, you’ll be the first I tell when it does.’

Castiel laughed at Dean’s joke, because taking it as a joke was better than facing the fact that it could actually be true.

‘I appreciate that.’

‘We can discuss R plus L equals J together and everything when you’re done. It’ll be fun.’

‘We can … what?’

‘Just keep reading,’ Dean encouraged him. ‘I think I’m gonna call it a day. You think you can read by the light of that lamp?’

Castiel glanced to where Dean pointed and noticed the lamp next to him. He switched it on, but it didn’t make much of a difference with the main light on. Dean walked over and turned off the main light and looked towards Cas questioningly. Cas glanced down at the book. He could see it pretty well, so he gave Dean a goofy little thumbs up and a half smile.

‘Don’t stay up too late,’ Dean warned him, heading towards the bed. ‘We have an interview in the morning, remember? And I don’t think that tired-trick will work twice.’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Castiel insisted, watching Dean grab the pillow that was next to him. Castiel suddenly remembered the thing Dean had mentioned about the covers and Cas got under them at once, so he wouldn’t disturb Dean later. ‘I’ll be fine.’

‘Good,’ said Dean, sounding amused. He put the pillow on the end of the bed and lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling. ‘I set an alarm on my phone. If I try to ignore it you can kick me in the face.’

‘I don’t want to kick you in the face,’ Castiel frowned.

‘Pretend I’m the queen in that book.’

‘Oh,’ Castiel said, tilting his head as he thought about Cersei … yeah, she was a bitch. And gross, for that whole thing with her brother. Castiel shuddered internally. ‘Okay, I’ll kick you.’

‘Thank you.’ There was a pause. ‘Night.’

‘Night,’ Castiel echoed.

And then there was silence but for the turning of the pages. 

Castiel was extremely aware of Dean’s presence next to him. And also of his feet. He made a note to make sure he slept on his side with his back to them. It wouldn’t exactly be fun to wake up with feet up in his face, even if they had just been washed.

Turning the pages suddenly became a horrifically loud experience in a room filled with no sounds but breathing. Castiel was afraid to make the tiniest noise or move even an inch lest he disturb Dean in his attempt to get to sleep … and then in his sleep, the start of which Castiel registered by the change in Dean’s breathing pattern.

It became a battle of knowing when to stop reading. He could pick it up tomorrow, surely. After the interview. And the shopping. Once they’d gotten settled in. He hoped he’d feel more at home sharing an apartment with Dean, because he certainly didn’t feel at home sharing a motel room. Or a bed.

Yeah, sharing a bed was terrifying.

Much easier when it’s with a girl/reaper you’d just had sex with.

 _Fuck_.

What if he woke up aroused? It seemed like he did every few days. He had last week, but luckily Dean had been asleep. On chairs. Across the room. But Dean was _right next to him_.

Maybe he should try and fall asleep thinking of gross stuff. Like Jaime and Cersei. Sex, yes, but incest. He suddenly wondered if Cersei’s children were the product of it … ew.

He closed the book, marking the page before he did, and put it next to the lamp, which he turned off. And then … slowly, so slowly … he turned onto his side, and straightened his legs. And he stayed perfectly still.

It made sense.

Cersei and her twin brother shared the features Cersei’s children had. Sure, that could mean Cersei’s genes were stronger than King Robert’s, but it didn’t seem like there was any Robert in them at all. And then how Joffrey acted, how he appeared to everyone other than Sansa …

Incest babies.

Disgusting.

He wondered if any of the other characters knew. And if not, he wondered if Dean shared his theory. And what he was talking about earlier with discussing … some kind of math thing with letters instead of numbers. He assumed it was something he’d discover later in the book or in the rest of the series. He wondered if he’d have time to read all of the books in the month or so they were here, or whether he’d be too busy with research.

Castiel then began to think about that research and go into depth in what they’d have to do. He fell asleep wondering how they were going to find the ghost when it appeared, and whether they’d have figured out who it was thanks to that research.

It was like he’d only just fallen asleep when a loud beeping woke him up and he reluctantly opened his eyes. He heard Dean groan and vaguely remembered Dean asking him to kick him in the face. He didn’t do that, however, when he felt Dean moving to turn it off and the sensed presence of Dean’s feet somewhere behind his head vanished.

Castiel went to turn onto his back so he could sit, then he felt it. He groaned internally and went into complete panic mode, but he didn’t let it show as the rational thing to do came into his head seconds later. Hide it. Run into the bathroom as soon as he could. And wait it out. Maybe he could take a shower so he’d have a reason to be in there for a while, giving him plenty of time for it to go away.

‘Morning,’ Dean greeted groggily, standing by the bed where he’d just turned off his phone alarm.

‘Morning,’ Castiel replied stiffly (no pun intended) while trying his best to appear nonchalant, and hurried on to say, ‘if you want to use the bathroom you should go first. I’m going to take a shower.’

‘Thanks for the heads up,’ Dean told him, looking painfully tired. ‘Won’t be long.’

Castiel smiled, the smile stiff too. Dean nodded, returning the smile and he disappeared into the bathroom as soon as he’d grabbed some clothes and shaving stuff.

Cas relaxed slightly once Dean was gone. He wondered if he could take care of the problem before Dean came back out. He’d still shower, of course, he’d told Dean he was going to, he couldn’t just change his mind. But it would be better if this thing would go away _now_.

He lifted the covers to see how noticeable it was and it was like it was looking back at him. Looking around him to make sure Dean wasn’t back out yet – clearly he wasn’t, it had been, like, a minute – he decided to take a peek inside his clothing, lifting up both layers of fabric and glancing inside just to … check things out in there. He wasn’t going to lie to himself and say the sight didn’t make him feel just a _little_ impressed at himself.

He hadn’t taken a good look at it yet, but just in case Dean came out super-fast, he stopped his looking and continued to sit, waiting, pushing himself up into a sitting position on the side of his bed with his hands in the way. He wondered what … April had thought about it. Liked it, probably. She’d made a grab for it before he was even unclothed, and pulled it out, stroking it …

He pressed down on it and felt the sudden urge, the instinct to roll his hips and push up into his hands.

He wished Dean would hurry up.

He suddenly didn’t want it to go away before he had the chance … to do some experimentation.

And that was what humanity was about. Experimenting with stuff. He’d decided so last night, hadn’t he?

He pressed down again and felt some of his muscles tighten.

He’d better wait until he was alone. But like, alone alone. No chance of Dean walking in.

He could … see what all the fuss was about with that guy who seemed to do it at the Gas ’n’ Slip every day.

He was definitely going to take that shower.

It was another few minutes before Dean finally, _finally_ left the bathroom after what seemed like ten years.

‘All yours, buddy,’ Dean announced. ‘Grab yourself some clothes and go ahead.’

Castiel nodded and made his way to the bag at the end of the bed, positioning himself so that he wouldn’t accidentally be exposed, pulled out clothes and pulled out his razor, presuming Dean had left the shaving cream in there, and carefully held everything low so he could sneak his way into the bathroom without revealing anything.

Dean sat on the bed when Cas closed the door behind him, sighing in relief. Last night and the whole bed sharing incident hadn’t seemed to have caused any negative effects. He hoped the same of today, the interview, being a _couple_. Dean smoothed out his buttoned-up flannel, having thought that buttoning it would be more suitable, less casual, for a “casual” interview.

So, this interview would have to entail … touching. Lots of casual touching. He found for some reason that talking to Cas about specific plans and touches beforehand made the actual doing it part feel much more awkward. So, he wasn’t going to plan anything. He would wing it, pretend he really had lots of feelings for Cas and do what those feelings compelled him to do when talking to him. Talking about him. Shit, he’d better establish with Cas where they’d met.

They’d met in a barn, after Cas had pulled Dean out of hell … so barn without the n was bar, and hell could be … he got him away from talking to someone he didn’t want to talk to. Pretending to know him to do so. And they’d just hit it off from there.

They’d have to hold hands, too.

They’d walk in holding hands. Dean … he hadn’t held hands with anyone in forever. He wondered what Cas’s hand would feel like, intertwined with his. Well, he guessed he’d find out.

Of course the hand holding he’d run by Cas. He glanced towards the bathroom door, thinking about, trying not to think about what Cas was doing in there. He tried not to think about and wonder, yet again, whether Cas had ever had the equivalent of Dean’s _shower_ last night, or if he hadn’t, if he would.

 _Or if he is right now_.

That’s fucking weird. Don’t think about that.

But _surely_ he had to be curious. He’d. Had. _Sex._

And Dean knew for a fact he got boners. Or at least had had them twice, presumably. That one time when he’d watched porn, and hopefully when he was having sex. Otherwise that would be some shitty sex.

Oh, great, and now Dean’s general curiosity had given him a semi-erection as if that fucking shower hadn’t been enough last night. Sure, his fingers did nowhere near as good a job as a dick in his ass could have done, but surely that was enough.

He was sick of his mind tricking him into getting Cas-related boners and fucking wished this was the first one, but it wasn’t. Hopefully it would be the last one.

His annoyance would calm it down soon enough and he decided to distract himself, looking over at the bedside table where A Game of Thrones lay. He still had a place marked in the book and decided to read some, just to kill time while he waited for Cas to emerge.

_Alyn carried the Stark banner …_

When Cas came out he gave Dean a tight lipped smile of greeting. Dean raised the corner of his mouth and nodded at the sheepishly walking former angel, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, as he headed towards the bag to put everything from the bathroom away, including last night’s clothes.

‘So, do you feel more clean or less clean after showering in a place like this?’ Dean asked jokingly, putting down the book.

‘Less,’ Castiel sighed. ‘Definitely less.’

‘Breakfast?’ Dean suggested, standing up.

‘I’m starving,’ Castiel informed him, agreeing to his suggestion.

‘Right. Grab the bag, let’s get out of this place.’

‘Agreed.’

Castiel picked the bag up, zipped it and threw it over his shoulder. Dean picked up the book and casually slipped it into the bag before it was fully zipped and the headed towards the door. Castiel stood by it, waiting for Dean, who pulled open the curtains and returned to Cas’s side, heart suddenly thumping at an idea he’d had.

‘We need to act like we’re together again,’ Dean reminded him. ‘So I was thinking … we practice for going into that interview and, uh …’

Dean gestured their hands. Castiel nodded. Dean took a breath, and held his hand out towards Cas, surprisingly steady … and Cas put his on top. There was a mico-pause, before the two of them bent their fingers and laced them together. Cas’s hand was warm.

Dean cleared his throat.

‘Right. Let’s go.’

Their hands stayed joined as Dean locked the door behind them and they started up towards the front desk, hands laying flatly between them.

 _Just imagine you’re carrying something_ , Dean told himself.

But it didn’t feel like anything he’d ever carried. It felt warm, steady, secure … and like he was holding Cas’s hand.

He tried not to let his hand twitch at that thought as they walked in silence.

When the checked out it was with a different person to who they’d checked in with and they headed out to the car, where they could let go of each others’ hands at last and settle into the car. It was a relief to let go, but things seemed to be … normal. Dean noticed Cas flexing his hand and figured he probably felt what Dean was feeling now; a phantom hand still holding onto his own, phantom fingers tied up with his.

‘Let’s find some place we can eat,’ Dean declared, starting the car and pulling out of the space he’d parked in. ‘So,’ Dean asked, ‘what do you think of the book so far?’

Castiel’s face suddenly lit up.

‘I have this … theory,’ he announced proudly.

‘Oh yeah?’

‘It’s about the Lannisters.’

‘Go ahead.’

‘That Robert is not the father of Cersei’s children. It’s Jaime.’

Dean paused, his eyebrows raising, and he turned to Cas and demanded, ‘has Ned got that book yet?’

‘What book?’

‘So that’s a no … why do you think they’re not the king’s kids?’

‘Because they seem to look exclusively like the queen and her brother, and Joffrey doesn’t seem to be as nice as Sansa thinjs he is. Robert, however, seems like he’s good. Whereas Joffrey seems to be more like Jaime, although not quite at the level of slaying kings just yet.’

‘Interesting theory,’ Dean replied, trying to keep his voice steady and his smirk away, ‘you’re smart. Keep reading, pal. Just keep reading.’

‘I intend to.’

‘So anything else come to mind about the books?’

‘Well …’

Dean was very glad he’d asked.

As they drove in search of somewhere to eat, Castiel had no filter and no off switch, expressing opinions and reminding Dean of certain occurrences in the book and talking about what he thought of them or about what he thought they meant or about how they might even tie in to his theory. Dean listened along to all of it, barely able to keep the smile off his face as Cas went. Yesterday Cas had barely spoken and it was all at Dean’s prompting, back and forth chatter. And now Cas was monologue-ing it to no end while Dean barely had time to put in a comment here or there.

‘… and I really feel like she’s going to kill her brother,’ Castiel finished finally, talking about Daenerys and Viserys as they parked outside a perky looking bright little diner.

‘I like to see you getting so into this,’ Dean laughed, looking at Cas’s decided face, like he just _knew_ what was going to happen. He almost looked a little smug about thinking it, actually, as if he already knew his prediction would come through. It reminded him of the smug “in your face” look he’d given Dean last week with his “nachos too” thing about preparing the food when his manager was busy. ‘You’ll be a nerd soon enough. Which isn’t a bad thing – being a _Sam_ type of nerd is the thing you don’t wanna be.’

‘Like … a know-it-all?’

‘Yeah, that. But the kind that reads books and can knock another reader on their ass with their interpretation … that’s where the gold is. You coming?’

‘Of course.’

They left the car and walked together, Dean giving a jerk of his head for Cas to walk more closely by his side. For appearance purposes, of course.

For appearance purposes again, Dean threw his arm briefly around Cas’s shoulders, gave him a little shake as they walked and declared, ‘I’m proud of you, man,’ before dropping his arm.

‘Why?’

‘Just …’ Dean shrugged. ‘The book thing again.’

Castiel gave him a quizzical look with a hint of a smile, but Dean didn’t explain, so he looked away and let the look fall from his face as they headed through the doors and to a table. They picked up their menus and studied them, ordering easily as they had yesterday, and once the waitress had left Cas spoke.

‘So what’s the deal with this interview?’

‘Just a super casual thing,’ Dean shrugged, leaning back into the back of the booth. They weren’t by the window this time, but by a very large mural of … ‘Dude! Rupaul!’

‘What’s a Rupaul?’

‘That’s a Rupaul,’ Dean pointed at the smiling not-woman above them. ‘She’s, uh, a famous drag queen. Everyone knew her name back in the day. I think she has a show or something these days too but back in the nineties _everyone_ knew her whether you’re gay or straight or a household pet. Man, that thing looks cool.’

‘You’ve mentioned the term “drag queen” before,’ Castiel frowned. ‘You never did explain.’

‘Oh, right. Yeah. Men who dress up as women. But not like cross dressers or transgender people – though I guess those people can be drag queens too if that’s what they want to do – but it’s like female impersonation. A performance thing.’

‘Oh,’ Castiel frowned, looking up at the mural. ‘She looks …’

‘Like a real woman but giant?’

‘Yeah, that.’

‘It’s awesome,’ Dean grinned up at the giant Ru above them. ‘It’s art. They’re amazing, man, I’m telling you, what they do … takes balls.’

‘Well, it would,’ Castiel commented, ‘considering they’re _men_ dressed as women.’

Dean frowned, turning towards Cas, and they he saw … the tiniest hint of a smirk. A joke. As Dean’s smile grew, so did Cas’s and Dean’s shoulders shook with laughter. He turned away, looking away from Cas and from the giant queen above them, then sighed.

‘So as I was saying. Super casual,’ he went on, as if there had been no interruption that might cause Cas to think he was a Rupaul fan – he wasn’t, of course, he just admired her work from afar – but he wasn’t going to be caught saying he wasn’t a Rupaul fan in a seemingly super gay diner near their super gay new apartment building. ‘I talked to the  building manager who’ll be doing it – she’ll just take us through, meet us at the doors the take us up to the apartment we’re renting, show us around, ask some questions, take our questions, glance over our references again … then if all goes well we pay the deposit and get the keys and it’s ours.’

‘Has she seen our references?’

‘Yeah, Sam faxed her a copy. We’ll need to show her some physical ones too, just for extra proof. Oh, and by the way, wasn’t it amazing when we met in a bar, where you save me from talking to that person that I wasn’t interested in that wouldn’t leave me alone? Good times, man. Good times.’

Castiel’s brow furrowed and Dean’s raised in response. It took Cas a moment – and he got it.

‘The best day of my life,’ Castiel responded, in character as Dean’s boyfriend. ‘I was happy to get you out of that … hell.’

Dean had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing.

‘You’re an angel,’ Dean replied, once he’d pulled his had away.

‘I guess so,’ Castiel replied, looking away. He seemed to sigh, slightly, and Dean knew he’d said something stupid.

‘Cas,’ Dean said gently, his had jerking across the table without his permission to rest on top of Castiel’s, which had been toying with the edge of the menu. Clearly, he was getting good at this casually pretending to be a couple in public thing. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Cas replied, looking back at him, then down. ‘I’m being … stupid.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Dean replied quickly. ‘I–’

Dean pulled back as the waitress returned with a small pot of coffee and two cups.

‘There you go,’ she smiled at them. ‘You two make a cute couple.’

‘Thank you,’ they answered at the same time, although Castiel’s was flat.

When the waitress went away, Dean reached across the table again, stopping Cas from pouring himself some coffee.

‘I’m the stupid one. Look, Cas, you may not be a _literal_ angel anymore, but I’ll always see you as one. Not because of the powers or any of that, but because … you’re special. And I’m sorry for bringing it up, I wouldn’t have if I’d known it’d upset you.’

‘It’s fine, Dean,’ Castiel replied. ‘Can I pour some coffee now?’

‘Some for me too, thanks.’

Castiel filled their cups as soon as Dean removed his hand, hissing internally at Dean that he wasn’t stupid. _Cas_ was stupid. He’d gotten used to the whole not being an angel thing, accepted as the new normal, even, but when he thought about what he did as an angel, the lives he’d saved …

He was being stupid. He could still save lives now. He was being a hunter, and hunters like Sam and Dean saved people all the time.

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked, and when Dean looked at him, he gave him an attempt at a redeeming smile, ‘what we’re doing, it’s a good thing. For all the people.’

‘Yeah, Cas,’ Dean nodded, returning the pained looking smile, ‘it is.’

‘I’m glad I get to do it with you.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean’s smile was more genuine now, ‘me too.’

And then Castiel’s smile became genuine too, and he felt better about everything. He didn’t need to be an angel. As Dean had said last week, _he’d_ never had powers. So Cas could get along just fine without them too.

Their food arrived soon after they’d fallen into silence, sipping away on their coffee. Dean was studying Cas. He looked … different today, somehow. Maybe it’s because his hair was a little messier than usual, more like it used to look years ago. It was still damp and kept falling across his forehead, and he kept pushing it back by running his fingers through it. Dean tried not to smile every time he saw that, finding Cas’s losing battle amusing.

Or maybe it was something else. He just … couldn’t place it.

‘Are you blanking out?’ Castiel asked, remembering yesterday.

Dean’s eyes met his.

‘Yeah,’ he replied quickly. ‘Sorry. Was I staring at you?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied, ‘but you don’t have to tell me I’m pretty. You already did in the car yesterday.’

Dean remembered their conversation in yesterday’s diner, then their one in the car yesterday where Dean had said “pretty” on par with where Cas had said “attractive” and felt his cheeks start burning, finding he could no longer meet Cas’s eyes.

‘Note to self,’ he said out loud, ‘stop blanking out while looking at Cas.’

He looked up again and saw Cas’s amused and seemingly happy smile, and one crept onto his own face because of it. He was pretty sure he hadn’t smiled as much as he’d smiled in the last two days in the last two _years_.

But he couldn’t help it. Cas just made him _happy_.

Their food arrived shortly after the brief exchange, the time between the arrival and the joke spent in silence. Dean kept looking up at the mural next to them because _damn, that’s a good mural_ and Castiel spent a lot of his time looking bored, but he was probably just observing stuff. As he often did. Dean wondered what part of it he was observing today.

They ate in comfortable silence. As they did they exchanged a few words, all initiated by Cas, about how they ate in Westeros, how things were killed and cooked and served, and how the big feasts were put together in such large halls. They imagined out loud all the servers and cooks running around and the panic when something came just a second too late. They imagined the death toll was pretty high, too, from all the weird experimental dishes in that world.

But as they paid and left the diner, the ease started to ooze out like the pus from a zit, and the tension began creeping in with a side dish of nerves, because they knew what was coming next.

‘We’re a little early,’ Dean frowned, looking at his watch as they approached the apartment building in the Impala, creeping along, looking for somewhere to park. ‘She said she’d be here at ten thirty – it’s twenty past ten now.’

‘Do you think that’s her?’ Castiel asked, barely visibly gesturing a woman in casual yet smart clothing standing by the doors, large and glass, with several different flags flying over them. Dean clocked the obvious rainbow pride flag, the bisexual flag and the transgender flag and there was another one that was black and grey and white that he thought he’d seen somewhere (back a few years ago when he was looking shit up because what the _fuck_ even was his sexuality?) and there were some others he didn’t recognize.

‘Probably,’ Dean nodded. ‘When I talked to her on the phone she said she was tall with red hair. Looks about right, doesn’t she?’

‘Yeah. She does.’

‘I think there’s a temporary space up ahead … yeah, there is. Alright. So hand holding thing?’

‘I think we could manage that a second time.’

‘And we need to look happy,’ Dean pointed out. ‘And like we’re totally and undeniably in love. It’s here we have to _really_ sell it.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Castiel promised. ‘But I have to ask. Why are we moving here?’

‘Let’s say … because our last place was too … bad. Like the area sucked. That’s what we’ll say if she asks.’

‘Got it,’ Castiel promised.

‘Right. So, I’m parking now …’ Dean swallowed nervously. ‘And as soon as we get out, I mean, we’ll have to just … y’know, we wanna make it look natural.’

‘I’ll try,’ Castiel said. ‘I swear I’ll do my best.’

‘I know you will,’ Dean assured him. ‘So will I.’

It’s only weird if you make it weird.

They got out of the car and Dean locked it, trying not to fumble with the keys. Dean went to the trunk to get their references and pack some more money into his wallet, from the money sack tucked neatly into the corner of the trunk. The two of them met on the sidewalk and joined hands at once, slotting together like they’d done it thousands of times and not just once.

Dean put on his best, casual, “I’m a normal, happy person” smile. He glanced at Cas at his side, to appear as if he were smiling _because_ of him, and saw that Cas looked reasonably happy … and extremely friendly, too. And satisfied. He remembered the last time Cas had looked like that, had been the first time he’d ever declared he was going to become a hunter.

Well, now Cas was a hunter.

‘Miss Baily?’ Dean called, as they approached to just a few steps away from the woman waiting.

The woman looked upwards, only barely shorter than Dean. She smiled warmly and reached out a hand towards Dean, shaking both of them as she greeted with a ‘please, call me Harri.’

‘Alright then, Harri it is.’

Castiel glanced at Dean, seeing how at ease he already seemed to be. Dean was just _good_ with people. Where Cas … well, he usually ended up making them uncomfortable. But he’d succeeded with Dean, so if he just stayed as relaxed and at ease as he was trying to be with Dean and applied it to other people, he should be good.

‘And you two must be the Winchesters.’

Cas felt odd, being called a Winchester. That had always been Sam and Dean, those hunter brother guys. And now … it was Dean and Castiel, that _couple_.

‘That’s us,’ Dean grinned, so easy, making everyone around him feel as at ease as he made Castiel feel.

‘If you’d like to follow me inside,’ Harri gestured, opening the doors and allowing them to go first, then walking to meet their side. ‘Now, we don’t ask many questions here. It’s all very private, very casual, very friendly. We all tend to be very good friends within this building, but we don’t pry. I actually live here myself.’

‘Do you?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Pleasant surprise, Castiel noted.

‘First floor, among one of the first to move in,’ Harri replied proudly.

Castiel decided he’d stayed silent for long enough and chipped in with a, ‘well at least we’ll know one person, then.’

‘You will. Always here to help,’ Harri beamed. ‘Let me give you the general tour of this floor.’

Harri walked on ahead of them and Dean glanced at Cas, looking impressed with how good of a job he was doing. Castiel turned his resting-smile into an “I’m okay” smile as they followed behind Harri.

The lobby was large and wide and spacious and very white. There were mail slots on the two walls surrounding the front door, parallel to each other, and directly ahead in the middle of the floor was a glass elevator, flanked either side by stairs. If you looked up, you saw no ceiling directly above, but the paths of the spiral stairs that disappeared onto the various levels of all ten floors.

If you turned left along the right wall there was long corridor, along it a spacious laundry room an across from it, a gym. At the end of the corridor there was a set of closed double doors, apparently leading to an indoor pool, locker room attached.

The left wall was turn free, as they again came to the lobby. Instead the place was longer on the right side, a series of doors starting several feet apart and continuing down a corridor. That was where the first floor’s residents lived.

Walking around the elevator would bring you to another set of glass doors. They didn’t exit them, but apparently turning left would bring you to an outdoor pool area, and right would take you to the flower gardens, complete with ‘the most amazing floral art you’ll see this side of the state.’

They took the elevator up to the fourth floor, which was where the vacant apartment was. The elevator stopped on a solid piece of ground complete with railing and the stairs both stopped there and continued, turning past it, upwards. They took a left, along the walkway with the railing, and looking down they could see the lobby below.

There was a wall, eventually, and then a wide corridor. It was long, and it had five doors on the left side. The wall at the end of it was made completely of glass, and only half a foot of plaster stood perpendicular between that glass wall and a white door on it, with the golden letter 4D next to it. A, B and C all let up to it, with E, F, G and H on the opposite side of the building, where you would take a right from the elevator or from the stairs.

‘Now, here’s where you’ll be living,’ Harri announced, unlocking the door to D.

‘If we get in,’ Dean joked. There had been many casual jokes made during the tour of the first floor and the journey to the fourth.

‘Oh, you’re pretty much guaranteed in,’ Harri told them. ‘All I need to do is see those references in person, ask some questions and the key is yours, if you want it. And here we are.’

The room they’d walked into was wide and spacious, but without furniture. The floor was light and wooden, the walls white. A directly to the left of the door, there was a higher platform that was one step up and against the opposite wall, fitted right into it, was an electric fireplace. And then to the right, the direction the door opened in, an enormous glass window which took up the entire right side wall, complete with doors and a balcony.

‘You’re lucky,’ Harri told them, ‘to get a D apartment on an even numbered floor. Every floor with an even number has balconies off the D and H apartments.’

There was a kitchen area in the right side too, that at least coming fully installed. The worktops jutted out into the empty space, like a large L with one side against the wall. The sink was against the wall, then underneath some more worktop, a small fridge. Beside that, an oven.

The wall on the left side went forward farther than the right, the wall staring right where the kitchen corner counter was up against it, a gap going left, and then two steps forward, the left side wall on the other side of the gap.

Down that gap there was two rooms; it turned out Dean had been wrong, there _was_ two bathrooms, but the small one on the left had only a toilet, sink and small mirror above the sink, where the larger one accessed from the bedroom came complete both a shower and a bath, the bath a deep, slightly rounded one with the shower right up next to it in the corner.

The En suite gave the bedroom a slightly odd shape as it took up some of the corner of it, and of course the wall facing outwards that was on the same side as the glass wall from the main room had large glass doors, again leading out to the balcony. This room, too, was empty and unfurnished, although the carpet was there and fluffy and white, the walls white matching.

The reason the right side of the main room didn’t push in as far as the left, was because of the long, shallow but wide built in closet in the bedroom with sliding doors.

Harri talked the entire way around the apartment, talking about the things they could do like paint, but please don’t change the hardwood floors or the carpets or the bathroom tiles. They could furnish however they wanted, and she mentioned that curtain poles already came with the place, along with instructions on how to use the fire.

They stood in the spacious and empty main room, by the counter that jutted out neatly into the room,

an obvious barrier for separating the obvious living room side from the obvious kitchen and dining room side. Dean put their neatly printed references on the counter and Harri spent a few minutes going over them once again, telling Dean and Cas they could feel free to walk around and check things out again as they pleased.

They, of course, headed straight for the bedroom to talk.

‘This place is fucking amazing,’ Dean hissed at Cas as quietly as he could. ‘I mean dude, it’s _awesome_. This is like my dream place from when I was a teenager come to life.’

‘I like it a lot,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I like it a _lot_. I enjoy how the sun can penetrate the entire inside through the glass. And I enjoy the concept of the balconies and the pool view. And I like the unique shape everything has. I wonder what the rest of the apartments look like?’

‘They’re probably just ordinary shapes,’ Dean said thoughtfully. ‘All even and square or rectangular. No balconies. No cool ass rounded bathrooms. And they’re probably not as big, either.’

‘We were very lucky,’ Castiel agreed with Harri from earlier. ‘I think I’m going to like it here.’

‘Yeah, not bad, is it? No wonder it’s so damn expensive.’

‘Is it expensive?’

‘Yeah. Don’t worry though. Sam and me managed to get like … a lot. We’re talking low tens of thousands here.’

Castiel frowned at him. Dean had mentioned them obtaining a large sum of money, but he’d never mentioned just how large that sum was.

‘How did you manage that?’

‘We know a lot of people who owe us favors, and they know a lot of people,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, none of it can be traced. It’s not stolen, it’s just not … legally obtained either. Do you object?’

Castiel looked around him and walked over to the glass doors. He looked out of the doors into the dull sunny sky, warm for winter, but not at California’s finest.

‘No objections here,’ Castiel replied. ‘You didn’t realize just how … _fancy_ this place was when you took the case, did you?’

‘The website didn’t do it justice,’ Dean told him. ‘So. Come on. Should we go back out there?’

Cas had crossed the room and was peering into the bathroom again.

‘Yes. Let’s.’

They emerged together, but their hands were not joined. As they approached Harri, she looked up smiling, and Dean boldly reached out and put his hand on Cas’s lower back as they stopped.

‘Everything seems to be in order,’ Harri told them, with her everlasting winning smile. ‘Now, I must ask. Any pets?’

‘None,’ Dean replied.

‘Unless you count him,’ Castiel added, blurting out inspiration for a sudden joke, which was actually a reference to a conversation he’d once had with Sam, where Sam had described Dean as something akin to having a pet.

The joke made Harri laugh and Dean barely managed to contain his surprise.

‘And no children, correct?’ she asked, her smile even bigger. Dean shook his head. ‘And any plans in the near future to have them?’

‘No,’ the two of them answered at once.

‘Not … yet,’ Dean answered, a little hesitantly, trying to outweigh the blatant and almost panicked “no” they’d given.

‘And you do have a brother,’ she added to Dean, ‘who I’ve been dealing with. Do you know if he has any plans for any long-ish term visiting?’

‘Definitely not,’ Dean replied. ‘If he does come, it’ll only be for a weekend or so. If even that. Right, Cas?’

‘Sam does have his own responsibilities,’ Castiel agreed. ‘He’s … busy.’

‘And says here there’s no disruptive jobs,’ Harri read off of a piece of paper. ‘Self-employed writers. Oh, excellent. Maybe I’ll look out for your books in stores.’

‘Oh, I daresay you’ll find a copy if you look closely enough,’ Dean lied through his pleasantly smiling teeth.

‘I hope you like horror,’ Castiel added.

‘I do, actually,’ Harri grinned wickedly at him, a twinkle in her eye. ‘Well, that seems to be just about every – oh! I have to ask, if you do move in, would you mind if we put your arrival into our weekly tenant newsletter? It keeps us all up to date on the happenings around here.’

Dean and Castiel glanced at each other. Cas shrugged. He didn’t want to seem unsociable.

‘That’s fine,’ Dean nodded.

‘Excellent. So, do you think you’ll take it, or have I put you off?’

‘Well we can’t say no at this point, after all we’ve gone through,’ Dean told her, turning his head with that easy and jesting smile. ‘Can we?’

‘Well, you _can_. I certainly hope you _won’t_.’

‘We’ll take it,’ Dean promised her, along with a friendly laugh. ‘Besides,’ he added, for good measure, ‘we have to, after this guy’s seen it.’

Harri looked at Cas with raised eyebrows and knowing eyes, as if she could read that he liked it on his face.

‘I like the copious amounts of glass walls,’ Castiel informed her. ‘It makes it seem bright. And happy. We could use a place like that.’

‘Oh, couldn’t everyone,’ Harri sighed, as if falling into a trance. ‘But if you don’t mind me saying, you two look like you have enough happiness as it is. How long have you been together, may I ask?’

‘Five years, just gone five this September,’ Dean replied confidently, making Cas’s head turned to look at him. He hadn’t expected Dean to know that.

‘Aw,’ Harri said quietly. ‘How did you meet?’

‘Oh, I rescued him from hell,’ Castiel replied casually, feeling the hand on his back suddenly tense. He looked up at Dean with a grin. ‘A predator akin to demon had him cornered in a bar and I, almost like an angel of sorts, stepped in and rescued him.’

Dean’s heard stopped pounding with the sudden onset bout of nerves, and then he realized Cas had made that angel joke Dean made. Without seeming to feel bad about it. He was happy about that.

‘You must’ve been glad of that,’ Harri laughed, looking at Dean.

‘Oh yeah. Can’t imagine life without him.’

And he really couldn’t.

‘Oh how I wish we could all have what you two have …’ Harri trailed off, sighing. ‘I’m sure we’ll all be glad to have another happy couple with us after all of the … unfortunate incidents here. Just to confirm: you know what happened?’

‘We know,’ Dean confirmed.

‘It actually helped inspire our move here, actually,’ Castiel chipped in, again scaring Dean slightly, but Dean put more trust in him this time. ‘We’re working on a book about a haunted apartment building filled with mysterious deaths. Pairing that with formerly living in a bad area … we couldn’t _not_ come.’

Fuck, Dean was proud of that damn confident and smart man at his side. _Fuck_.

‘I look forward to a time when that book hits shelves,’ Harri beamed.

‘We’ll send you a free copy,’ Castiel promised.

And that was that. Some more idle comments passed between them as they showed her their IDs, just for more confirmation as they signed the lease, and Dean paid the deposit up front. And then she gave them their keys, keys to their mail slots and assigned them a parking space in their underground parking lot, located right next to the building with stairs leading up to the outside close by the back door, or the elevator working from there too at basement level.

Before Harri left, after wishing them the best of luck and telling them to call by apartment 1B whenever they needed, she offered them a, ‘I hope you’ll be very happy here.’

Dean, who had been standing slightly apart from Cas since they’d had to separate to sign the lease, placed his arm firmly around Cas’s shoulders and replied, ‘so do we.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized (weeks after posting this) that Castiel doesn't get knowledge of literature until 9x18. Ignore my slip up with the reference to it. I haven't watched season nine in a while.


	6. Moving In

As soon as the door closed, Dean dropped his arm and took a respectful step back from Cas. Silently, he raised a single hand and held it out in front of him, grinning at Cas, hoping Cas knew what he was looking for – and he did. Castiel high fived Dean, smiling wide and with his teeth, and then they dropped their arms to their sides, some laughter coming in and dying out in the same second as relief washed over both of them, the weight they hadn’t realized they’d been carrying on their shoulders leaving them in one solid sweep.

‘Now all we need is furniture,’ Castiel muttered, looking around the empty space, wandering over, opening the cupboards that were on the walls up above the worktops, looking in the fridge, all rigged up but as empty as the apartment was. ‘And food.’

‘We should make a list,’ Dean decided. ‘I’ve got a pen right –’ he pulled the pen he’d bought the day before yesterday out of his pocket ‘ – here.’

‘Have you got paper?’ Castiel asked, logically.

‘Uh …’ Dean muttered, searching his pockets, ‘no. But we both have hands.’

‘So?’ Castiel paused, seeing Dean’s raised eyebrows. ‘Dean, no.’

‘Oh, come on. It’ll wash off.’

Castiel heaved out a sigh of exasperation at Dean’s ridiculous antics that he had to admit he rather enjoyed, despite not wanting to show that.

‘Fine.’

‘Here’s how we’ll do it,’ Dean decided. ‘We’ll each have a list of things we need to get, split up, then meet up for lunch. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

‘So … hand, please.’

Castiel, rolling his eyes, held out his hand to Dean. Dean grabbed hold of the hand, steading it, bending the fingers down so he could get a grip on it, and he wrote what he wanted Cas to get.

_Clothes_

_Cutlery_

_Dishes_

_Kitchen stuff_

‘There.’

‘Where am I going to find kitchen stuff?’

‘Try any store that looks like it sells stuff you’d find in houses. There’s always a section.’

‘And what’s your list?’

‘Well, I’ll be getting,’ Dean began to talk as he wrote, ‘bedsheets … pillows … bathroom stuff …  and  … bedding. The rest of the shit we can get together after lunch. Sound good?’

Castiel smiled, satisfied.

‘Yes.’

‘Right. Let’s go.’

Dean picked up the two keys from the counter and handed one to Cas, who pocketed it. Dean attached his to his car keys and the two of them exited the apartment, Dean locking the door behind him, as they headed back towards the elevator. The fourth floor was deserted and their footsteps made no sound on the cream carpet, but the sound of heels on the marble floor of the lobby below echoed all the way up until they stopped suddenly.

‘Almost feel afraid to speak?’ Dean muttered out of the corner of his mouth to Cas, as they pushed the button for the elevator which quickly began to ascend towards them.

‘I feel like we’re … outsiders,’ Castiel admitted. ‘Like everyone we come across will know we’re not supposed to be here. That we’re not … in the community.’

‘Hey, you’re an outsider, speak for yourself,’ Dean muttered, stepping into the elevator, Cas after him, the doors closing soon after. ‘What do you think the B stands in LGBT stands for, bicycle? Bilingual?’

‘I appreciate the fact that you feel comfortable enough to make jokes about what you told me last week,’ Castiel smiled at him, but the smile quickly fell when he added, ‘but I’d rather you not label me an outsider of the community until I’ve fully … experimented and made my mind up on certain matters.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Dean assured him, hoping he hadn’t pissed him off, ‘just no sleeping around until we’re done with this case, alright? Can’t have people thinking we have problems.’

‘Of course not,’ Castiel scoffed. ‘You’re my one and only priority in life. Hopelessly devoted to you and whatever else real couples say to each other.’

‘That’s the spirit,’ Dean replied, half sarcastic, then gasped. ‘Dude, look – there’s a drag queen.’

‘What?’

‘There’s a drag queen. Shush, don’t –’

The elevator doors opened in the lobby and they began walking across it, Castiel noticing the person Dean had been talking about. Castiel had been going to ask Dean how he knew that specific person was a drag queen, perhaps they were actually a transgender woman with slightly “masculine” traits, but the  highly volumized purple wig and the extremely tight clothing and the heavy makeup made it obvious.

Dean quickly made a grab for Cas’s hand and Cas understood why – keeping up appearances in front of this queen and the young woman she was talking to.

Dean and Castiel continued their way towards the front doors. The queen and her companion both stopped and greeted them in passing, so they greeted them back and continued on their way, out the doors. Dean didn’t speak, letting go of Cas’s hand, until they were halfway towards where he’d parked.

‘I wonder what she was doing in day-drag? Usually the work at night,’ he wondered aloud, glancing back towards the doors. ‘Dude, that was so cool. A drag queen possibly lives in our building.’

‘Are you … a fan of drag queens?’ Castiel asked curiously.

‘What? No,’ Dean replied, as if it were the most ridiculous thing in the world. Castiel stopped. Dean stopped too and saw Cas’s accusing look. ‘Okay, maybe.’

‘Dean, there’s nothing wrong with having interests,’ Castiel replied evenly. ‘No matter what those interests are in.’

Dean folded his arms.

‘Look, I just think the whole … drag thing … is … like, they’re talented. Okay? And some of them do really cool stuff. But don’t judge me. Or tell anyone about it. _Especially_ not Sam.’

‘I won’t tell anyone,’ Castiel swore.

‘Good. Because, you know, if you tell Sam, I’m shaving his head and gluing all of his hair to your ass.’

Dean resumed walking, Castiel catching up at his side, looking up at him and trying to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

‘Of course you are,’ he mumbled. ‘But I thought you’d know by now that I’d never make fun of you for your interests. That’s Sam’s job.’

‘Oh yeah? And what was that yesterday in the car with the Spanish and the “doctor?”’

‘That was …’ Castiel struggled to find a word. ‘Light teasing.’

‘Same thing.’

‘No, it’s not. Because I didn’t mean it. I only did it in lighthearted fun, wanting to see what your reaction would be.’

‘Uh huh, okay, sure.’

‘Dean, I’m telling the truth,’ Castiel insisted. ‘Lo prometo.’

‘What?’

‘It’s Spanish for “I promise.”’

‘Asshole,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Where did you learn to speak Spanish, anyway?’

They’d reached the car. Castiel waited until he got in to answer.

‘Most angels were given the ability to communicate in any language,’ he shrugged. ‘I’ve always wondered why. Now, I know. It seems to be coming in handy.’

‘You’re mean,’ Dean complained. ‘Give me a Spanish insult to insult you with.’

‘Vete para la casa de carajo.’

‘Which means?’

‘Literally translated? Go to the house of dick.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean said aggressively, ‘do that. However you do that.’

‘I’ll be doing that later,’ Castiel replied, as casual as ever, without even looking at Dean. ‘When we return to the apartment.’

‘Aw, come on,’ Dean corrected, ‘don’t call yourself a dick.’

Castiel slowly turned his head towards him, glaring.

‘Hijo de gran puta,’ he muttered.

‘Okay, I know “hijo.” It’s “son,” right?’

‘I said, “son of a giant whore.”’

‘… I know you are, but what am I?’

‘Are you calling my father, the creator of the _universe_ and everything in it, a “giant whore,” Dean?’

Dean took a second to think, that second coming at an ironically good time as he had to stop at a red light.

‘I suppose not,’ he muttered.

‘I thought so,’ Castiel smirked, although Dean didn’t see the smirk. It was one of a simple self-satisfaction. And then, recalling another part of his teasing of Dean yesterday, he added, ‘ _doctor_.’

‘Cas, we’re about to go to a damn shopping mall with shops with all sorts of things in them,’ Dean warned. ‘I could buy a whole number of things to torture you with. I could buy you a pillow stuffed with blue cheese, which _stinks_. I could buy you a pin cushion with pins sticking out of it and tell you it’s a stress ball. I could buy you liquid Ex-Lax, stick it in a glass and call it a milkshake. Tonight, I could stick your hand in warm water while you sleep. I could buy a tarantula at a pet store and when you fall asleep tonight I could put it on your face. I could –’

‘Okay, Dean,’ Castiel sighed boredly, ‘I get it. You’re … a tough guy.’

Dean raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment on it, instead agreeing, ‘that’s right, I am.’

‘Although if you were actually tough, you wouldn’t be trying so hard to prove it.’

‘Well you’ve come a long way from trying not to say anything that could piss me off,’ Dean commented, raising his eyebrows and turning to look at Cas as traffic moved at a decent pace.

‘You told me to,’ Castiel said with a simple shrug.

‘I guess I did,’ Dean agreed with a laugh.

Their talk died down as they continued forward through the city, Dean looking around him in search of one of those big ass shopping malls usually with a hoard of teenagers going in and out and not buying anything.

‘It’s a beautiful city,’ Castiel commented.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Dean agreed.

‘Palm trees. They make it look … inviting.’

‘Inviting, huh?’ Dean questioned. ‘To me they make it look more … like we don’t belong here. Like we’re outsiders here as well as in the building. It looks like something you’d see in a cheesy beach city movie about spring break.’

‘I’ve never seen a movie like that.’

‘You probably don’t want to,’ Dean advised. ‘Or maybe you do. You mentioned something about experimentation and all that.’

‘Yes. That’s a part of humanity, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yeah, definitely. Usually done in college but first-timers in this whole humanity business have to start somewhere I guess. Let me know if you need to talk about anything you’re … experimenting with.’

‘I will. Thank you for that offer.’

‘Any time, pal.’

The drove a little farther, passing some large buildings and some small, and dozens of pedestrians and drivers.

‘I suppose we’ll have to get used to it,’ Castiel thought out loud, glancing around again at the outside.

‘Get used to …?’

‘The area. The building. The – _our_ – apartment. Since we’re going to be here for a while.’

‘You’re right,’ Dean agreed. ‘It was an adjustment from being on the road for me and Sam to get used to where the bunker is and how dead it is around there. Did you know that the nearest _good_ store is an hour away from Lebanon?’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. There’s an okay store nearby, but that’s basically it. Twenty minutes to the nearest diner, Pizza Hut, movie theater, farther for better. It’s in the middle of nowhere. This should be a blessing compared to that.’

‘I think the fact that it’s in the middle of nowhere is the whole point for a top secret Men of Letters bunker,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘Okay, true,’ Dean nodded, ‘but inconvenient.’

‘Convenient for avoiding predators and threats.’

‘Inconvenient for if I want pizza at three in the morning or if I want to go out and meet a chick at some bar I can walk home from.’

‘There’s no winning with you, is there?’

‘Nope.’

‘Didn’t think so.’

There was a pause again as they prowled down another road, around another corner, looking at every large building to see if it was the right kind of large building for them.

‘This seems to be the perfect area for pizza at three in the morning. And for bars, were you to ever want either of those things.’

‘I’ll have to get the numbers of all the nearby takeout places. And menus,’ Dean joked, but he was still half serious. ‘But I think I should avoid going to bars. Or at least avoid going alone. Might look suspicious for a man in a serious relationship to be hanging out in the perfect place for meaningless one night stands.’

‘Not every relationship that starts in a bar is a meaningless one night stand,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘Our false one proved to withstand the next five years and two months.’

‘You caught that, huh?’

‘Well, she asked. And you answered.’

‘Y’know, it’s hard to forget the date you literally came back from the dead and got out of hell.’

‘I know. I assumed, after thinking for a moment, that that’s what you remember about the date. I wasn’t trying to … imply anything strange.’

‘Okay, good. Neither was I.’

‘Dean –’

Dean saw what Cas was pointing at and turned towards it, grinning.

‘Jackpot,’ he muttered.

‘Are you sure this place will have everything on our lists?’

‘Positive,’ Dean promised. ‘Then we can go off in search of some furniture stores for the rest of the stuff we need.’

‘But before furniture, we buy food.’

‘Yeah, Cas. Before that, we buy food.’

Castiel smiled, satisfied. Dean entered the multi-level parking lot and began driving around in search of a space. The first level appeared to be packed, so he started up onto the next, Cas at his side looking around. He realized Cas had likely never been in a parking structure like this before.

‘Weird looking, isn’t it?’ Dean commented with a laugh.

‘It’s dark,’ Castiel commented. ‘And crowded. How high up do these things go?’

‘Depends,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I don’t think this one goes up too high, it’s just for a mall. But places like this can look pretty ominous, especially at night.’

Castiel huffed out a breath of laughter, followed by a smile.

‘I bet the city looks amazing at night.’

‘Probably,’ Dean agreed. ‘We should check it out sometime, after we’ve settled in. Catch a movie and go out for a drink or something. I told you I’d get you to experience as many human experiences as possible, didn’t I?’

‘I do recall you referring to me as your “personal project.”’

‘Exactly. So?’

‘So, I’d be happy to see a movie and have a drink one night. I’d like to experience as much of humanity as possible while I can.’

‘Then it’s a date,’ Dean grinned, then the grin slid from his face and he backtracked, automatically panicking, ‘but not actually a date. It’s just an expression.’

‘Yeah, I know. I got that.’

‘Okay. Good. Just so we’re clear.’

They pulled into a parking space just as they finished speaking and got out of the car. Dean walked around to the trunk and opened the money bag where he pulled out several hundred dollars and handed it to Cas, who accepted it with thanks and pulled out his wallet to put it in. It was definitely more money than he’d ever had before.

‘How much of this do you want back?’ Castiel asked, watching Dean refill his own wallet.

‘None,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Go nuts. Buy as much as you want and keep the change for anything you might want in the future.’

‘Like pizza at three in the morning?’

‘Exactly,’ Dean said approvingly. ‘Now come on. Let’s find an elevator or something that’ll get us inside.’

They walked through the near empty (of people – plenty of cars) lot and looked at all the doors and turns along the walls. Stepping through a glass door, they came across a small room with two elevators and chose one of them, which they stepped into.

‘Not as fancy as the ones in the apartment building,’ Dean joked.

The heavy metal doors opened behind them after a moment and they turned around, stepping out onto the second floor of a decently busy mall.

‘What now?’ Castiel asked.

‘Store directory,’ Dean replied. ‘Should be around here somewhere. You’re looking for men’s clothes and I’m looking for home needs … maybe a Bed, Bath and Beyond. I could pick up the towels and stuff – plain, boring old white okay or do you want something fancier?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘As long as it dries and isn’t too rough I don’t care what it looks like.’

‘You’re always practical and always to the point,’ Dean laughed, clapping Cas on the shoulder. He was getting more used to the absence of the trenchcoat with every touch. ‘I like that.’

‘Well, good, I guess,’ Castiel shrugged.

They soon found the store directory and made their respective searches. They both found what they were looking for pretty quickly, and stepped out of the way of the next people needing to use it, over to a railing which overlooked the ground floor. It almost reminded them of the apartment building.

‘So, text me when you’re done,’ Dean instructed. ‘And pick a place from the food court. I’ll meet you there when I get done, or vice versa. And feel free to start eating without me, because I’ll be doing the same thing.’

‘I won’t hesitate,’ Castiel promised. ‘I’m already tempted by the food court. I’ve always wanted to try out Burger King.’

Dean grinned, rolling his eyes at him.

‘Bottomless pit,’ he commented. ‘Aright. See you in an hour or two?’

‘Don’t forget to send pictures like you promised.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’

Dean left Cas with a quirky grin and something that looked terrifyingly like a wink. Castiel frowned at Dean’s turned back, watching him walk away, then turned in the opposite direction to head for the store the directory had shown him the location of.

Castiel thought briefly about that utter failure of a time he’d attempted to go shopping for Dean to buy him all of his favorite things in the hopes of being forgiven. He realized Dean had never found about that shopping trip. He was glad he had improved his shopping skills since then – then, he had knocked over shelves and been confused by almost everything and demanded pie until he was terrifying an innocent worker. But he’d been surviving on his own for a while now and he’d bought a phone after saving up his paycheck several weeks in a row, and that purchase had gone down reasonably well.

Speaking of phones, Castiel’s buzzed in his pocket. He paused to pull it out and noticed it was a text from Dean captained with a simple “Promised I would” followed by a picture of the entrance of the store he was entering. Castiel rolled his eyes, not replying, continuing on his way to where he was headed, a little farther away from where Dean had gone.

Castiel walked the few extra feet to the entrance of the store and entered, veering towards the men’s section which he could see straight away was considerably less crowded than the women’s. There were a few men dotted here and there among the displays of clothes and one or two women, but no swarming in and out between displays like over on the other side of the store.

He drifted towards the shirts first, a display of flannel in many color variations was his target. It was what he saw Sam and Dean and a variety of other people wearing, so it was already what he was most used to. He decided to pick up just one to start off with, to take into the fitting room with him to try out for size. That was what he decided was best to do with everything, and then he’d come back.

He ended up taking a flannel shirt, a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a pair of dark sweatpants, a jacket and a pack of underwear (there was a sign saying it was okay to try those on as long as you didn’t put them back on the self if you did – at first he hadn’t been sure.) He just assumed the sizes, having checked the sizes on the clothes Dean had bought for him for that photoshoot, and was pleased to find everything fit.

Apart from the underwear.

The first pair he tried to get on, he struggled to get past his thighs. So we went back and got two more packs, one one size bigger than his failure and the other two. With the one a single size bigger, he managed to get them on, but they rolled up. The final ones he tried on, they fit in the legs, but they were too big at the waistband and in the back.

He returned to the underwear section and cast his eyes around for another style – more like the loose ones he’d been wearing since … well, since forever, pretty much, that he’d never paid attention to because being an angel he never needed to. He was pleased to find a pack of loose boxers – not quite as long or baggy as what he’d been wearing for which he was thankful (they were annoying sometimes) and even more pleased to find that they fit.

He got two packs, and now he knew his size, he went around the store grabbing things he assumed he’d need. He got two pairs of sweats, one grey one black, assuming a pair and a spare would be fitting. He got a flannel shirt in every color he liked, plus a few plain non-patterned ones in various shades of blue. He got some short sleeved and long sleeved t-shirts, in muted colors. Black, grey, dark blue and one that was a sort of patterned mix of light and dark grey that looked as though parts of it had simply been stretched into a lighter color. Some of them were v-necks and others were rounded and one or two had collars.

As and sudden thought to cold nights, he picked up a robe too, dark blue. He noticed he was picking up a lot of blue things … he found that color suited him, the work vest he’d worn certainly had. It was true, his favorite color was actually green, but it wasn’t a color he had a particularly strong urge to wear.

Around the time he was in the section of plain t-shirts, he received a message from Dean. A picture of two different sets of bedsheets, one pattered in zig zags of black and emerald green, the other in the same style but the green was sapphire blue. He texted back “I like them” and continued on his way.

He got the jacket he’d tried on for when it got cold, a plain black denim-like thing with two front pockets, and also picked up a dark blue sweater he liked the look of. He got a similar one in black. He picked out two similar pairs of jeans – one just _slightly_ darker than the other – and a pack of plain, dark socks. He also grabbed a black belt for good measure, figuring he’d better have one just in case.

There was a section for shoes, too, so with his impending purchases in a basket he’d picked up on the way in, he headed over there. He figured shoes in the style Dean usually wore would do, so he picked out a pair in black in the same size as the shoes he was wearing now, which he figured could be cleaned so he’d have two – three if you counted the formal ones from the photoshoot – pairs. He tried on the ones he was buying for good measure and they were pretty comfortable, so he started heading towards the till –

And then he saw it.

There was a section of longer coats he’d completely missed … and one of them was a tan trenchcoat, shorter than his last, a different style, but it was there. He couldn’t just walk past something like that … so he grabbed it, and then headed towards the dress shirts, and grabbed a white one of those. And a suit jacket similar to his old one, and pants just like his old ones … no tie, though. There were no plain blue ties around. But the rest …

Did he dare? Did he need them?

It was how he’d always dressed. He knew for this case it would be ridiculous to wear the same thing every day, and since he was human things would need to be washed, and he’d already picked out an entire wardrobe’s worth of stuff …

But there was after the case to think about. Where would he keep all of his clothes? And since the case was a secret, how would he explain all of them to Sam if he were to find out about them? If was going to get this outfit, he should get an extra of the same white shirt and the same pants, for when he washing the other stuff. They were the basic parts that made up actual clothing, he wouldn’t need another jacket and trenchcoat to wear when laundering the originals.

Still … it seemed … unnecessary.

He decided to text Dean a picture.

The reply was almost instant: _Dude get them_

So, along with his other purchases, he did.

He left the store with two bags of neatly folded clothes, one of the bags also containing a shoe box, and he headed back in search of that store directory.

He typed in “home store” figuring it would tell him a place to go to get kitchen stuff, and it did. He headed off in search of that store immediately, and it was filled to the brim with weird ornaments and lights and mirrors and rugs, but there was also a section with various other necessities. He picked up a set of cutlery in a long rectangular box that jangled if he shook it. There were four knives, forks, big spoons and small spoons. There was a large-ish box containing plates and bowls, too, plain white, which he got. He made sure to add up the prices in his head lest he run out of the money he had left, but he was still good.

He grabbed a set of mugs and a set of glasses and a set of cooking utensils – the utensils just in case. Dean had mentioned something about cooking spaghetti and there was an entire section devoted to all of that things. Dean had said “kitchen things,” or at least written that on his hand so he piled in a set of saucepans too, a frying pan, a cheese grater and something called a pizza cutter and some dish towels and basically anything he saw that he thought could be used, balancing it all in the wheelie basket he desperately hoped they’d let him take out of the store, because there was no way he could carry all this stuff – and his wish was granted.

Then he was done, free to meet Dean for lunch.

He took all of his purchases to that Burger King he’d spotted earlier and sat down at a table with two seats, leaving them all down by the free side of the table, between him and the empty chair. And he texted:

_I’m at Burger King._

Dean replied, _At the bookstore, order me a bacon cheese &fries. I’ll have whatever drink_

Castiel cautiously left his purchases and went to the counter. Thankfully the line wasn’t long, just one other person ordering ahead of him. Cas liked the sound of what Dean wanted, so he ordered two of the same, with two cokes. He’d seen Dean drink cans and small bottle of regular old coke before, so he figured that’d be okay. The woman behind the counter said she’d take the tray to the table, so that’s where he returned to. While he was ordering, his phone had buzzed in his pocket so he pulled it out as soon as he’d sat down.

Surprisingly, it was Sam.

_Hey, u ok? Been a while since we’ve heard from you._

Castiel didn’t want to laugh at the irony of the fact that Sam had used “u” and “you” in the same message, but he allowed himself a chuckle, and then a pause to appreciate the fact that Dean wasn’t the only one who seemed to care about his wellbeing. It hadn’t even been a _while_ , just a week as far as Sam knew.

_Sorry, been busy. Job._

While waiting for Sam’s reply, Castiel took a moment to wonder what Dean was doing in a book store. He didn’t have a lot of time to wonder, because Sam was a fast texter.

_Call or text if u ever need anything_

Castiel smiled. The kindness in both Winchesters was apparent. He wondered if Sam knew the real reason Dean had asked him to leave … the reason he just had to trust Dean on. Judging by how truthful Dean had been with his brother lately, probably not.

 _I will_.

He doubted Sam would reply, and he didn’t. The food arrived moments later.

Castiel didn’t want to start without Dean despite joking about it earlier, but he had been on his feet and moving around and hauling stuff with him, and he was getting pretty hungry. He had three of his fries and a sip of his drink … Dean probably wouldn’t notice.

Just one, two more fries …

And then Dean sat across from him so he swallowed quickly.

‘You didn’t have to wait for me,’ was Dean’s greeting.

‘I wanted to,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Did you get everything?’

‘Two duvets. Four –’

‘Two _what’s_?’

‘Duvets.’

‘You call them “duvets?”’

‘Yeah? What do you call them?’

‘Blankets. Or comforters. They’re the terms I’ve heard used.’

‘Blankets are thinner,’ Dean frowned at him. ‘And I hate that other word. Besides – the thing you put on these things is often called a duvet cover. Now would you let me finish?’

‘Okay. Go on,’ Castiel nodded, taking a moment to appreciate the fact that he was learning some choice words within Dean’s vocabulary, and that what Dean said was different to what he said. He enjoyed learning about Dean’s quirks.

‘Four pillows, two each,’ Dean went on, ‘I put those rolled up in the back seat of the car. I put the bags of towels and bed sheets and pillow cases and everything else with them. I picked up some towel racks and toothbrush holders, too. The pillow cases match the sheets, and the fitted sheets that go over the mattresses are just plain white. I figured they’d go with the walls. The green and black sheets are yours, I got the blue and black for myself. Because I decided I’m going to take the sofa bed permanently. You deserve your own bedroom, I’ll just use the bedroom for the closet and for the shower in the bathroom and stuff.’

‘Thank you for that gesture,’ Castiel smiled it him, swallowing a bite of his burger before he did. They’d both begun eating as they spoke.

‘No problem,’ Dean grinned. ‘The only problem is where we’re going to keep the extra duvet and pillows during the day, for in case people come over.’

‘On the bed in the bedroom,’ Castiel suggested. ‘If anyone enters the bedroom for some reason and notices, we can say we get cold at night and enjoy two pillows each.’

‘Genius,’ Dean grinned. ‘Absolutely genius.’

‘I try,’ Castiel smiled.

‘So besides what I can see, what did you get?’ Dean asked, grinning over his burger.

‘Below those pots and pans there’s a box containing plates and bowls, a set of mugs and some glasses. There’s also cutlery, four of everything, various sized knives and some other cooking things. Even if we don’t use them, they could be used for show. And the pots came with a free oven tray and pair of oven gloves.’

‘Perfect. We can use those to cook frozen pizzas. What’s in the bags?’

‘Some clothes and a pair of shoes, and the outfit I wanted your advice about. I figured I’d need it for after the case … I won’t have enough space to carry all of my clothing around with me. So by default, I went back to my old way of dressing. And so Sam will never find out about this – I got a spare shirt and pants for when I’m washing the others, too.’

‘As I said,’ Dean repeated, ‘genius. Speaking of Sam – he called.’

‘What did he say?’

‘He asked how things were going,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I told him we – but not specifically me and you – got in. Described the place a little. Mentioned shopping for stuff to set up. He said to call him if we need anything and that he and Kevin are doing fine – Kevin’s having no luck on the tablet front, Sam told him not to push himself too hard.’

Dean wasn’t about to let Cas know that a week ago Crowley had translated the tablet and there was no way to get the angels back upstairs.

‘Sam texted me, actually.’

Dean’s eyebrows raised in suspicion.

‘Oh?’

‘He just wanted to ask if I was okay told me to get in contact if I need anything. I said I would.’

‘That was nice of him.’

‘Well, he’s a good person. You both are.’

Dean laughed.

‘Thanks for that.’

‘Just telling the truth,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘Before I forget,’ Dean said suddenly, picking up the one bag he’d brought with him to the table, ‘this is for you.’

Castiel accepted the bag, lifting it over the food and placing it on the ground next to him.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘Look inside.’

Castiel looked down into the bag and saw what appeared to be the tops of five very thick books – thicker than most normal dictionaries. They were encased together in one grey colored holder, which he pulled out and onto his lap. He read the titles of all of the books, but the first one stood out the most: A Game of Thrones. Each book was a different color and the covers were made of some kind of cloth-like material.

‘“A Song of Ice and Fire,”’ Castiel read quietly. He looked back up at the expectantly smiling Dean and felt an odd stirring in his chest, a familiar feeling but coming to him in a new way. For once his mind didn’t jump to a stupid conclusion like, “he doesn’t want me using his own copy” or anything of the sort. He knew exactly what this was. ‘A gift,’ he stated.

‘I thought you should have your own copies,’ Dean shrugged, still smiling lazily at him with those … those _eyes_. There was like, a shining light in them which Castiel had seen a few times before that wasn’t always there, or wasn’t often there. ‘You deserve a gift that’s not just something that you need. But something that you _want_. Something to call your own that’s not just about survival in daily life.’

Castiel honestly didn’t know what to say. The words he’d been saying since Dean showed up the other day, “thank you,” didn’t seem enough. And a physical gesture would be crossing a line, and even if it wouldn’t have been, it would have been it would have been too difficult what with the table, the food, the shopping, the books on his lap … he swallowed, smiling at Dean in a way he was certain he’d never smiled before.

‘I … I don’t have anything to give you in return,’ he replied weakly.

‘You don’t need to give me anything,’ Dean told him, as sincerely as it was possible to be. ‘You’ve given me enough already. Healed me more times than I can count. Rescued me from hell being the obvious – and you’re _here_. You’re helping me out again. So take the books as payback.’

‘You didn’t need to pay me back for anything,’ Castiel muttered so quietly that Dean almost didn’t hear him.

‘I did,’ Dean corrected him, ‘so enjoy. Read. See if your theory is true and if you come up with any others let me know.’

‘I will,’ Castiel promised, his arms around the box set of books, before he placed them back in the bag.

They continued to eat without speaking, everything they needed to say over and done with leaving them free to concentrate on their food. Castiel finished first and picked his drink up off the table, leaning back, sucking small sips through the straw. He enjoyed straws, they made the whole drinking experience faster, or slower depending on how hard you sucked.

‘Something on your mind?’ Dean asked, polishing off the last of his fries.

‘Not really,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Just thinking about how much more we still have to get. I didn’t see any furniture stores here.’

‘No, there’s none, but I asked around,’ Dean told him. ‘Interior Illusions is not far from here and apparently they sell good stuff. The name sounds weirdly familiar … they do same day delivery too, so that’s a bonus.’

‘Why does the name sound familiar?’ Castiel asked.

Dean shrugged.

‘Who knows? Maybe I heard it on TV. So what do you say we drop what we bought off at the apartment and head out for some furniture?’

Castiel nodded, so that was what they did.

The back seat was full of stuff by the time they unloaded everything. Dean waited in the car while Castiel returned the wheelie basket to the right shop, and then they were off, headed back to the alien building they were supposed to call home. The lobby was empty this time, the elevator too, but there were sounds of stirrings on other floors and they ascended and the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the stairs above them when they reached the fourth floor.

The apartment was already familiar, but empty and unwelcoming. They didn’t bother unpacking anything, just dumped it all in the kitchen area, including the bags Dean had packed, and carefully on the counter the box of pictures from the photoshoot were placed, and on top of them the fake book they “wrote.”

‘We can put them over the fireplace,’ Dean suggested, pointing at the box, as Cas hauled the “duvets” as Dean called them through the door.

‘They’ll be viable from the doorway,’ Castiel commented, his eyes flitting over there. ‘That seems like a good plan. Even if people just come to the door they’ll fall for it.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘So come on. Let’s go buy some furniture.’

The first thing they looked for upon entering Interior Illusions was a sofa bed – if they didn’t have any, they were screwed and would have to look elsewhere, but luckily they had three different options, so they opted for the one that was light brown and had two seats when not a bed. When it came to the normal bed, a lot of them were pretty … extreme looking. One of the more normal ones was the “Organzic” bed, which came in king or queen, Cas choosing the latter.

‘Oh come on,’ Dean urged Cas jokingly when he’d chosen what he wanted, ‘that’s so boring. Get a four poster or one of those super cushioned ones. Or the one that looks like a chair!’

‘Dean, we’re not going to be here for long,’ Castiel reminded him, ‘and the room isn’t particularly large.’

‘Spoil sport,’ Dean muttered. Cas was just glad to see he was in such a good mood.

They got two simple looking nightstands to go by either side of the bed, then moved on to the dining section where they got a simple rectangular wooden dining table, and four chairs, two per side of the table. The got a coffee table for the living room that looked like it would be easy to move, and they got a lamp for each night stand in the bedroom, and as an afterthought got an end table for next to the couch and another lamp for that.

So the walls wouldn’t look so bare, they got a wall mirror for the bedroom (useful, and nice) and one for the living room too, which would go on the back wall behind the sofa, directly across from the TV they planned on getting elsewhere.

They ended up getting an outdoor table and two chairs for it, too, plus two hanging chairs Dean insisted upon getting because they “looked fun” and, trying to appeal to Cas, “could be good for outdoor reading.” Castiel didn’t object to anything, he enjoyed seeing Dean excited by all the things he could buy, which included a wooden ping pong table because ‘there’ll be so much space behind the sofa, we need something to put there or else it’ll look weird.’

‘Dean, do you even play ping pong?’

‘I did. One time. I sucked – but it could be fun.’

Castiel rolled his eyes, and so that was yet another thing to be delivered and carried up those thin stairways by some poor workmen. Cas almost felt sorry for everything the delivery people would have to do, and then realized he and Dean would have to be polite and help. He then began to feel sorry for the two of them.

They spent a frightening amount of money at that store, but Dean told Cas not to worry about it.

‘Plenty more where that came from,’ he promised.

‘You didn’t rob a bank, did you?’ Castiel replied, only half-kidding.

Dean rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

They hadn’t managed to get curtains and asked the person they dealt if they knew of anywhere and he recommended a place, so it was there they headed to next, deciding on black curtains, because white would make everything too beach-house-like but black went everything. They were able to get a normal set for the bedroom and an extra-large set for the completely glass wall, which came with a curtain rod attached to the ceiling right in front of it, thank goodness, which Dean had checked out when he noticed the wall in the first place. They also got a rug there, black again, to put the coffee table on. It would be simple to just drag the rug out of the way every night rather than risk having the coffee table mark the floor.

They found out from asking that there was a Best Buy in the city, so that was where they went for the TV, which would be mounted in a bracket on the wall above the fireplace. While there they picked up a microwave and a coffeemaker too, and then that was that.

They were done.

The TV would be delivered later that evening, but they took the microwave and the coffee maker with them. The whole experience had been fun. It had been almost like they were a real couple shopping together – Castiel being the one with a little more sense – and the agreed on things pretty easy, preferring the simple look rather than other extravagant variants, like glass table tops or mirrors with carvings and lights.

It was a joy to return to the apartment (they were having difficulty with it being _their_ apartment so avoided calling it that mostly) but a curse to remember there was literally nowhere to sit. This time it only took one trip to unpack the car and then Dean went and moved it from the outside of the building to their assigned space in the underground parking, while Cas began to unpack things. He started with placing the cutlery in a holder he’d picked up when buying kitchen things. It had slots for each different thing, like knives with knives and forks with forks. He placed that in the top drawer underneath one of the worktops, and in the second drawer he placed the dish towels in various sizes – some obviously for drying dishes and others for wiping things up. He didn’t know the exact purpose for things, but his assumptions about things were often correct.

Dean got back when he was opening up the box of dishes and went over to help him out. There were four large plates and four small plates, four bowls and four larger bowls, which they placed in a wall mounted cupboard. The bowls went on the middle shelf and the plates on the bottom, and the set of mugs and glasses – four of each – went on the top. Everything seemed to be sold in fours, which was a pretty decent number for just two people living and using them.

The other wall mounded cupboards they left bare for food, choosing to store the pots and pans and the oven tray in an under-counter cupboard along with the cooking utensils that didn’t fit neatly in the cutlery drawer. Dean started unboxing the microwave next and Castiel took the coffee maker, both of which they plugged in side by side on the work top nearest to the oven. Dean took the smaller towel rack he’d gotten into the smaller bathroom while Castiel took the bigger into the bigger – towels set on each. A towel for hand drying in the smaller, the same in the bigger but with the rest of the bigger towels neatly folded underneath.

‘So that’s about all we can do for now,’ Dean sighed, once they’d got all of that done and the boxes for things pilled in a corner to be worried about later. ‘We can worry about all that other stuff later. Soap and shampoo and bathroom stuff and cleaning stuff and a trash can for the kitchen and the bathroom … feel like pizza?’

It had been several hours since lunch and a lot of hard work had been put in since then. Castiel nodded.

‘I’m going to put my clothes in the closet,’ he decided. ‘I kept the hangers for most of them. I’ll only take up half.’

‘Put mine in too?’ Dean asked. ‘It’s all in my bags – those two. My computer and other personal stuff is in the other one, you can just leave those in and I’ll find a place when we get everything sorted out.’

He gestured the two bags with his clothes in them.

‘Of course,’ Castiel smiled at him. ‘How do you want them put in?’

‘Do mine however yo do yours.’

‘Alright.’

‘And don’t forget to check where you left off in A Game of Thrones so you can mark it in your own copy,’ Dean reminded him.

Castiel’s eyes flitted to the bag containing his gift and he felt that swarming feeling of gratitude in his chest again. He wondered if he should thank Dean again, or … hug him or something. Probably not. That wasn’t something they did, so it would be odd to start.

‘I will,’ Castiel decided to reply, ignoring the gratitude swelling within. ‘Thank you for reminding me.’

‘I’ll pick up some more stuff while I’m out,’ Dean decided, heading towards the door. ‘Some coffee. All the bathroom stuff and cleaning stuff I mentioned and somewhere to throw trash if I can find it.’

‘Don’t be _too_ long,’ Castiel urged him, feeling a growling in his stomach that had started up as soon as Dean had suggested pizza.

‘I won’t,’ Dean laughed at his obvious eagerness towards the concept of food. ‘Text me if you think of anything else we need.’

‘I will.’

‘Alright,’ Dean grinned, opening up the door, ‘see you later.’

Castiel raised a hand in farewell and the door was pulled closed behind Dean’s exit.

Castiel grabbed his shopping bags and hauled both of Dean’s clothes bags over his shoulder. He dropped them all in front of the closet in the bedroom. He slid open the doors of the built in closet and found it deeper than it appeared.  There was a bar going across for clothes to hang, and there were lots of hooks on it, perhaps to hang hangers or to hang clothing off of if there were no hangers. There was a flat surface a little farther than midway down and under that were some shallow drawers.  

Castiel hung his hangers from the hooks, and the shirts without hangers that could be hung, he hung from the built in hooks by the label inside around the collar area. He hung his robe with them, and his jacket. He kept the t-shirts folded and put them in one of the drawers where he also placed his jeans and sweats and put the socks and underwear he’d gotten in the drawer under it. He put the box with his shoes on the flat surface and then moved onto Dean’s things.

He did basically the same thing with Dean’s things – all of the flannel shirts, jackets and Dean’s robe were hung, jeans, sweats and other shirts folded in a drawer. He kept everything of Dean’s over on the complete opposite side of the closet. He put Dean’s other shoes he’d found in one of the bags on the flat surface like is own.

The clothes they’d worn for the photoshoot, he placed in a different drawer, between the drawers on his side and on Dean’s. The rest of the things in the bags, shaving things and tooth brushes and deodorant, he brought into the bathroom and set up. There was a cabinet below the sink, so he put the shaving stuff and deodorant in there. He put his face cloth on the side of the sink, Dean’s on the other side, his tooth brush in the holder on the side his face cloth was on, Dean’s again on the other. 

He thought he was just about done when he returned to the bedroom and noticed another shirt in the bag that been used in the motels, screwed up into a ball and figured Dean had forgotten about it, so he pulled it out and let the fabric fall freely, and something fell out of it and onto the floor. Castiel picked it up and dropped it again immediately. He’d spotted the word on the bottle.

Lubricant.

Cas may not have been as _experienced_ as others, but he knew what that was for. They sold cheap brands of it close to the porn section in the Gas ’n’ Slip.

 _Shit_.

He figured Dean had probably forgotten about it, meant to put it in the other bag or something, so he smoothed out the shirt as if nothing was wrong and hung it by its label. He placed Dean’s empty bags near his shoes on the flat surface and shut the doors of the closet swiftly and got to his feet. And then he picked up the … lube.

He headed back out to the main room, already growing accustomed to how it looked, figuring he’d have to get used to it. He went over to Dean’s third bag and tried not to move it, unzipping it gingerly. He could see Dean’s computer in there, and next to it some socks and underwear which he tried not to look at. Seeing the socks seemed fine, after all he’d been wearing Dean’s socks, but looking at the underwear made him feel like he’d crossed a line. And worst of all, behind Dean’s back. Carefully, he slipped in the bottle, covered it with the sock pile, gently jostled the bag so the contents looked disturbed, like he hadn’t just straightened a pile of socks over something, zipped it back up and stepped back.

He and Dean were being open with each other, sure, but not _that_ open.

He remembered the book he’d removed from one of the bags in the bedroom and returned to retrieve it, flicking through the pages as he went to find his mark, and went over to his own box set of books, still in the bag. He closed over the book again to take out his set, took out the first book and opened it to the same page as the other copy was marked on. They were slightly different editions, a few pages difference in places, but Castiel marked the page neatly, unmarked it in Dean’s book and closed it neatly, leaving it on the counter.

He reopened his own copy and leaned back, set to read, when a knock on the door interrupted him.

He answered the door and it turned out to be the delivery from Interior Illusions.

And then chaos began to ensue.

Everything came already assembled – there were no screws to put in here or there to make a thing stand up. The first thing that was brought up, the easiest, was the table and chairs which were placed in the dining area, out of the way of the general square of kitchen space and closer to the wall, with still enough space between the table and wall. Nothing had to be placed perfectly, just in the general area so it could be moved into place later.

Dean arrived when they were bringing up the coffee table and he put the pizza, along with a bag of something or other on the counter top.

‘Been here long?’ he asked Cas, entering through the open door left open by the delivery men, who left just as Dean entered.

‘No,’ Castiel responded, ‘all they brought up was that.’ He gestured the table. ‘I offered to help but

they declined the offer. Did you know they’ve brought furniture to half a dozen apartments in this building?’

‘Seriously?’

‘They told me. And they’ve even – well, Interior Illusions – have been hired by people here to design rooms.’

‘Looks like we’re fitting right in,’ Dean joked, pulling a 2l bottle of coke out of the bag he’d brought in. ‘Glasses?’

Castiel went to the cupboard and pulled out two glasses – already rinsed out before being put away, so ready to drink from. Dean poured them two glasses as two men arrived again, carrying two night stands.

‘Are you sure you don’t want us to help?’ Castiel offered. ‘There’s two of us now.’

‘Nah, thanks,’ replied one of the men, stopping to catch his breath. ‘We’re used to this – just tell us where to put stuff.’

‘Those go in the bedroom,’ Castiel instructed. ‘It doesn’t matter where until the bed gets here.’

The man nodded, saluted, picked up the nightstand and headed towards the bedroom.

‘Well, aren’t we adjusting to human life just splendidly?’ Dean commented, quietly so only Cas could hear, in a fake sounding impressed and vaguely posh voice.

‘ _Splendidly_ , indeed,’ Castiel replied stressing the mocking word. It was hard to imagine that he’d been so … in his own head yesterday, terrified of making one wrong move. He still _was_ – he had no idea what was going to happen when they were alone – but for now, everything was going smoothly. ‘It’s nice to offer. I may not have my angel strength anymore but I’m still another set of arms.’

‘Wait, so you’re saying you could only lift an anvil because you were an _angel_?’ Dean joked, referencing the first time they’d worked an actual case together, back when Cas first decided he wanted to be a hunter. ‘Damn, I thought you were just that strong.’

Not that he’d been looking at Cas’s muscles or anything.

‘I am,’ Castiel replied casually, getting in on the joke. ‘I just said I’m not to make you feel better about yourself.’

‘Oh, so _that’s_ what you’re doing,’ Dean pretended to realize. ‘I should’ve known. You’re too nice for your own good. Except for when you’re not.’

‘I think it’s kind of the point for me to be nice “except for” when I’m not. That’s the point for everyone, Dean.’

‘Yeah, but I was going to just leave it at nice, until I remembered you made fun of me earlier today and yesterday.’

Castiel saw the opportunity and took it.

‘Lo siento.’

‘Eat your fucking pizza.’

Castiel laughed, looking away, as he picked up a slice and bit into it. He’d eaten two bites when he remembered the other bag, so he took a drink and asked, ‘what else did you buy?’

‘Junk,’ Dean replied. ‘Take a look.’

Castiel peeked into the bag. There were chips, Pringles, popcorn, marshmallows, chocolate bars, cookies, various tubs of ice cream and frozen yogurt.

‘That’ll melt,’ Castiel replied mildly.

‘It’ll refreeze,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Or I’ll put it away now.’

‘What’s all that for?’ Cas asked, turning around with his pizza in hand to watch Dean working, briefly turning around again to see the outdoor furniture beginning to be brought up, so he walked over to the doors and twisted the key that already came in the lock, so the men wouldn’t have to put down their heavy load.

When Cas had returned, Dean replied, ‘our house warming party.’

‘Our what now?’

‘Movies, junk food, like the other night but better because it’s a better TV and a better place to sit. There’s more junk in the car and a bunch of movies the guy behind the desk called last year’s “must see” movies. They don’t look like something I’d normally go out and watch but I figured we can give them a try. I can bring them back tomorrow.’

‘And … what you actually went out to get?’

‘That too.’

‘You’ve been busy.’

Dean shrugged indifferently, saying, ‘Everywhere’s close together, it’s not like it took me long. Did you put away our clothes?’

‘Hung all the shirts like these,’ Castiel gestured the flannel, ‘everything else is in drawers. And don’t worry, I didn’t touch your third bag so whatever strange personal items you’re keeping in there are still your own secret.’

Dean had gotten the ice cream and frozen yogurt put away and returned to eating pizza across from Cas, each standing on opposite sides of the counter. It seemed wrong to sit down anywhere while men were at work around them.

‘Oh, good, so you didn’t find my secret stash of old lady porn.’

‘I sincerely hope you’re joking.’

‘Of course I’m joking,’ Dean scoffed. ‘It’s not just old ladies. There’s men too.’

‘Dean …’

‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding,’ he insisted, laughing at Cas’s judgmental look, the pizza half way to his mouth but paused in midair making him look a hilarious sight. ‘Nah. I keep that stuff in the car.’

Castiel rolled his eyes, tired of Dean’s ridiculous joke (perhaps he would be less judgey if he hadn’t literally found Dean’s damn lube) and took a drink, returning his attention to the pizza and the four men now carrying the sofa, which he directed to be placed on the raised area, where they’d left the ping pong table too, paddles and ball on top.

‘So what kind of movies are there?’ Castiel asked, changing the subject as the men left for the final, biggest item of all: the bed. Oh, and the mattress, he figured.

‘One super hero thing,’ Dean listed off, remembering. ‘Something about Snow White, don’t know what the hell that’s about. Some animated thing. Some other stuff, some of them looked like chick flicks. Which I usually don’t do, but … whatever.’

Castiel sensed something in the way Dean trailed off, looking away.

‘What?’

‘Hm?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and looking back at Cas. He put on a face of clueless innocence. ‘What what?’

‘Why did you trail off like you were … avoiding mentioning something?’

Dean groaned. He looked around him, making sure they were alone and muttered, ‘okay, so I might have seen one of the chick flicks before. But I swear, it’s only because of Jessica Lange. She’s awesome.’

Dean’s manor was familiar.

‘Okay,’ Castiel replied, ‘sure. Only because of whoever that is. You’re not a fan.’

It was like the drag queen thing from earlier all over again.

Dean sighed.

‘Okay, shoot me. I like chick flicks. But tell Sam, and I shoot _you_. The guy _thinks_ he’s got that on me, but since I’ve never confirmed it he’s got no ammo, can’t do anything about it.’

‘You _know_ I’d never tell Sam something you told me in confidence,’ Castel replied, staring intently at Dean. ‘I trust you, but you should trust me. I thought you said you did.’

‘I do,’ Dean confirmed, ‘I just … don’t like saying some stuff out loud, okay? It’s embarrassing.’

‘I don’t see why. Everyone has their own interests.’

‘I _guess_ …’

‘And we’re going to be living together. It will be hard to keep secrets from each other.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean sighed. ‘I’m just used to hiding shit. But I promise, from this moment on, complete, total, honesty.’

‘I promise the same thing.’

‘Good. And by the way, Jessica Lange is still awesome.’

‘I’m sure she is.’

The bed arrived behind Dean and he whipped around, Cas watching too as the men completely ignored them on their way to the bedroom, concentrating on pivoting the bed to get it through the narrow hallway and door. Dean glanced back at Cas.

‘How do you think they got that thing up four flights of stairs?’ he whispered. Castiel shrugged, as clueless as Dean was.

The mattress came last and finally, everything was inside and relatively close to the final places they’d be put in. There was a brief break from pizza for thanks and tips, and then they got back to it, taking the rest over to the table and pulling out two chairs. They didn’t speak the rest of the time they ate.

Dean found himself feeling sudden gratitude for the fact that he had Cas here with him. With anyone else this stuff would be a nightmare, shopping and moving in and the whole lot, but Cas made it bearable. There was just something about him that was so … _nice_. It’s not that _he_ was nice, it was that _being with him_ was nice and a genuinely enjoyable experience, especially now that he’d relaxed. Finally. Although, they were only just starting, so who knew what other things would come up that might make him clench back up into an unyielding mystery.

There was a lot of things that would usually do the same thing to Dean, too. Those walls he’d thought of before that he always put up that were prodding at him even now, when he thought on the fact that he was sitting in a place and he and Cas were going to be living together.

Alone.

For who knew how long until this case was dealt with.

It’s not like Dean wasn’t used to living in close quarters with people, it was the fact that it was with Cas that shook him, even though they’d been closer before, huddling under the same coat for warmth when night fell in Purgatory. But even then, Benny was there, right next to them. And no matter how nice being with Cas was, there was that sheet of awkwardness that lay over them, attempting to suffocate them if it fell too low, and Dean didn’t know why it was there. Right now, it was on the ceiling. But he had a feeling that when night and morning fell it would be hanging right over their heads, despite them getting along relatively well in motels together.

It’s just that this time, they weren’t leaving.

Sure, they had to do some more shopping tomorrow to buy food and shit, but then … nothing. Maybe some research. But that was it. And then they’d be left, living together. Existing together in the same space. Going about their daily lives.

And that, though it shouldn’t have been, was scary as fuck.

It was just _Cas_.

But it was also Cas.

And something about Cas had always made Dean nervous, afraid to show weakness in front of him, afraid to show the sides of him that made him just an average human, the sides he’d been sharing with Sam for years, because they both had all those flaws and were constantly forced to be together, seeing everything the other one did, pretty much.

With Cas, the being forced together was new. Everything was new. And if Dean made one dumb joke Cas genuinely didn’t get, or said one thing Cas might not like, then …

It wasn’t the end of the world. But it would feel like it.

And he couldn’t figure out why.

Then there was the fact that while he felt so uncomfortable thinking about sharing those … well, the only word for it was _domestic_ sides of him, he felt more comfortable telling him little things about than with anyone else. For example, Dean had never used the word “duvet” around Sam, but damn it, around Cas he was gonna use it, because he liked it more than “blanket,” “comforter,” “quilt,” “bed spread,” or any other damn word for it. And no, he had never confirmed to Sam that he wasn’t as opposed to chick flicks as he let him believe, but he pretty much fessed up to Cas right away. And yesterday, he’d felt free enough to point out and stare at that Rupaul mural, and today he allowed himself to express happiness and interest in seeing a drag queen, and he’d never dream of purposefully doing that in front of Sam.

He was able to completely be himself with Cas, yet afraid to be completely _himself_.

A flawed, completely human human, who sometimes cooked, ate weird food combinations, liked things _clean, damn it_ , occasionally majorly stunk up a bathroom, sometimes took long showers and yeah, watched some unexpected but damn interesting things on TV.

And he fucking liked looking up weird things on the internet, and he was proud of that.

Unless Cas found the weird things too weird, then he’d barely be able to look at his laptop without feeling some discomfort.

It was majorly conflicting.

He glanced at Cas, drinking from his glass with his face a mask, impenetrable, his mind completely unknown to Dean.

Dean had no idea that Cas was worried about almost all the same things, and more, because it was his first time as a human and he was so, so afraid to do something wrong or perceived as odd, or be caught trying to educate himself about some matter he should know about but didn’t.

What if Dean caught him looking up something odd on the internet? Harri had said, as she walked around the building and gave them the tour, that the entire building had internet, it was included in the rent, as were all the bills. She said the password was on the page she gave them with important phone numbers, their parking space and how to use the fire. And he had a phone he could look up things on, and today, when they were looking at electrical gadgets and wandered by a bunch of laptops, Dean had offered to get Cas one. Cas had declined, figuring that would be easier in the long run – after the case he’d be stuck in a motel and after that who knew what would happen as they tried to get the angels back into heaven – so he didn’t want to risk growing attached to too many possessions.

‘Well, you can borrow mine if you ever want to,’ Dean had shrugged as they moved on past.

So, then, what if Dean caught him looking up something weird on that? Or what would his excuse to borrow it be?

 _How_ was this living together completely 24/7 thing going to work, exactly? It would be easier than sharing a motel room, sure, but it was long term compared to a night or two in a motel. What if Cas bought something he didn’t want Dean to see? How would he get it inside unnoticed? Or what if, like Dean had mentioned, Cas wanted pizza in the middle of the night? How would he manage that without waking Dean, asleep on the sofa bed?

Or even if he wanted a drink in the middle of the night. He’d feel weird about creeping around the kitchen, with Dean asleep just a few feet away.

All he could do was glance at Dean chewing his pizza, hoping things would work out for the best and take it one day and one experience at a time.

Though he was still completely terrified about it and there was no stopping that terror from making him worry about all the things that had yet to come.


	7. The Knocking

When they finished the pizza, Cas went to rinse out the glasses, while Dean took the pizza box with him on his trip out to the car. There was a dumpster in the parking lot, and another around the side of the building, signs up reminding them of so on every floor, plus it was one of the bits of information they were given by Harri as she gave them the tour.

The glasses didn’t need much other than being rinsed out with warm water, which was a good thing since the cleaning things were still being brought up. Cas got to use one of the new dish towels from the drawer again to dry them and put them away, and he replaced the towel hanging from the door of the cupboard below the sink where Dean had put it when rinsing the glasses after unboxing them earlier.

Now alone in a furnished but not particularly position-perfected apartment, Cas began to wander around as he waited for Dean to get back. He went over to the raised living area and ran his hand across the sofa. Soft. He sat down on it. Comfortable. And the ping pong table, behind it … looked good there.

The mirror for the wall was on the floor, but Dean had made a quick stop in driving today to get the right tools they’d need to hang the mirrors and hang the TV. The bracket for the TV came with it, but the screws to fix it to the wall and the tools to do that didn’t.

He made his way to the bedroom. The night stands had been left by the closet, but the bed was in position against the wall in the obvious place it was supposed to be due to the plug sockets on the wall either side of it. The mattress had been put on the bed like it was supposed to be, he mirror on top. Castiel decided he may as well move the night stands while he was here, so he put them both in place, and then decided to go and get the lamps for them which had all been placed on the coffee table. He realized, stupidly, as he carried the lamps, they’d forgotten to get bulbs. It was a good thing they didn’t need to buy bulbs for the rest of the lights, all of which were imbedded into the ceiling.

They key to the glass doors in the bedroom was already in the lock, like the one in the main room had been. He turned it and let himself outside, wandering across the balcony. It was early evening and the air had an odd smell and a warmth to it, all of it welcome. From the balcony, he could see the pool, off to the left and many stories below. There was just one person out there, sitting on the edge and dangling their legs in the water.

The outdoor furniture looked good. It wasn’t positioned correctly, but it looked good. The hanging chairs were side by side with the outdoor table next to them, which Castiel decided needed to be fixed at once. They’d discussed their positioning when in the store, so Castiel decided to right that, getting the table set in the middle of the balcony with the chairs at it, and a hanging chair either side. There.

When he went back inside via the main room’s glass door, Dean was placing another bag on the counter.

‘There you are,’ Dean joked. ‘Check it out,’ he added gesturing the sofa, which now had a large box leaning against it.

‘When did that come?’ Castiel asked, confused as he’d only been wandering around for five minutes.

‘The guy got in the elevator at the ground floor when I was coming up from the parking lot. He dropped it off and left. What were you doing outside?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘Exploring,’ he answered. ‘I positioned the furniture out there. In the bedroom, too.’

‘I got the trash cans out of the car and one of the other bags. I’ll just go down for the other one and you can unpack these.’

‘There’s another?’ Castiel asked.

‘The store wasn’t busy and I had a basket to fill. Shoot me, I bought a lot of shit. We can put whatever we don’t eat in the cupboards. Our very first food here.’

Castiel rolled his eyes.

‘Where’s the rest of those?’ he asked, pointing at the lone, mid-thigh height trash can he’d put by the end of the part of the worktops that stuck out.

‘Inside the big one,’ Dean replied. ‘They came as a three-thing package for a limited time only. They’re being replaced by some kind of weird mop that’s being advertised next week, so we got lucky.’

Castiel put his toe on the peddle that raised the lid and picked up a smaller, below-knee height one from within.

‘I’ve got this,’ he declared. ‘Go get the rest.’

Dean nodded and headed on his way while Cas picked out the other smaller trash can and headed to put one in each bathroom, each next to the sink.

Dean was still gone when Cas returned to the shopping bags on the counter. The counter in his apartment, in which he lived, with Dean. Making it their apartment filled with their stuff. Which was weird to think about as he pulled another 2l bottle from the original bag Dean had brought in earlier, this one Pepsi, and took out the rest of the junk in it and laid it out on the counter. The next bag was filled with similar things but different types of it, different cookies and different flavors of chips and chocolate with different stuff in the center.

Dean came back when Cas was just finishing up inspecting everything and with another bag and a twelve pack of beer, and Dean began to unpack the bag at once, contained normal stuff like dish washing items and dish soap and regular soap, a bottle of which Cas took to each bathroom, and then he took the shampoo and conditioner and body wash to the bigger bathroom, placing the extras in the cabinet under the sink and a bottle of each in the shower. He stocked both with several rolls of toilet paper from the pack Dean had gotten too. When he returned to the kitchen, Dean had sponges for him to bring in.

‘Color coded,’ he grinned at him. ‘They match our bedsheets. The green’s yours, the blue’s mine.’

Castiel smiled at Dean’s reasoning as he made another trip, the thought briefly coming to him that his sponge and bedsheets were the color of Dean’s eyes and Dean’s the color of his. A color swap, of sorts, which was ironic.

‘Right, let’s get the rest of this stuff fixed up,’ Dean welcomed him back into the room. ‘Curtains?’

‘I’ll take the bedroom,’ Castiel replied. ‘Oh – and we need lightbulbs for the lamps.’

‘Shit,’ Dean muttered. ‘Tomorrow.’

He went to the bag with the curtains and the one rug they’d bought and tossed the folded curtains to Cas, then grabbed the other pair and a chair, which he brought over to the end of the pole on one side and stood on, beginning to fix the curtains on. Castiel grabbed a chair and took it with him to the bedroom to do the same.

Castiel lifted the curtain rod from the end of the holder above the door on one side and slid all of the hoops on, then replaced the rod. He did the same on the other side and pulled the curtains closed and open a few times. He wondered for a moment what would happen if he left through that door and went to the other one to frighten Dean. It would likely be amusing, but he would never do it, so he locked the door he’d opened earlier and took the chair back out to the kitchen, to see Dean still on the chair and feeding the pole through the many holes.

‘Straighten up the table?’ Dean asked, hearing Cas’s return. ‘It’s too far off to one side.’

Castiel did as Dean requested and then pushed the chairs neatly under it, including the one he’d stood on. Dean brought back the chair he’d been using a moment later and fixed it in, the two of them going back over to the curtains together, pulling them together and then opening them again.

‘They look good,’ Castiel commented. ‘Open or closed.’

‘Things seem to be shaping up pretty well,’ Dean agreed. ‘Come on. Let’s go outside, I haven’t seen it yet.’

Dean headed outside and Castiel followed him out. Dean went up to the railing and looked out over it, at the darkening sky around them, at the ground below. It was barely after five, yet the sky was duller than it had been earlier, the air cooler, slightly humid. Cas watched Dean walk the length of the balcony, seeing the same view as Cas had, looking as though he enjoyed it. He finally turned back towards Cas and headed towards one of the hanging chairs, sitting down in it. Castiel mimicked him. It was odd to sit down in a chair that moved.

There was silence between them for what felt like a while, although in reality it was less than a minute. There was a slight breeze beginning to creep in, cool yet not cold. Dean had been right earlier with his argument for getting these chairs, Cas could definitely see himself coming out here to read. Or even to just sit.

As if he was reading his mind, Dean stated, ‘I could get used to this.’

‘Me too,’ Castiel agreed quietly. Although they both knew that they couldn’t, it wasn’t an option, and they were going to have to leave.

‘We should go inside,’ Dean sighed, getting to his feet again. ‘Get that TV up. We’ve got movies to watch. We might even have to make this a two-night thing.’

‘Right,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Let’s go.’

They headed inside, locking the door behind them, and headed over to the monster of a TV.

It took a hellish half hour to figure out what the hell they were doing and get it done, but when the TV was secure on the wall it was satisfying and rewarding, and yet, they still weren’t done. Dean moved the coffee table out of the way while Cas got the rug, then they lifted the table together and placed it securely onto that rug. They righted the position of the couch and adjusted the ping pong table just slightly, and Dean went to work on nailing the hooks for the mirror onto the wall with a small hammer they’d gotten to do it with. He went to nail in the ones for the bedroom while Cas tried to get the mirror straight on the back wall. Lastly, the end table for the cough was put at its side, the lamp on top.

There was one last thing for the main room, which Dean picked up off of the counter and carried over to fireplace, Castiel seeing him and leaving his admiration of the mirror behind. Dean opened the box, and their pictures looked pretty much perfect.

They each took three and positioned them along either end above the fireplace, and then Dean placed the fake book in the middle, between them all. There were a few inches between them and the bottom of the TV.

‘Now all that’s left is the bed stuff,’ Dean said, at long last.

It felt like they were racing through the final leg of a journey. They worked well together to get the fitted sheet on Cas’s bed and it was a slight challenge to get the cover on the duvet, but that went better the second time around. The pillows were easy … and then they were done. Dean collapsed down onto the end of Cas’s bed, groaning.

‘I feel like I’ve been on my feet all day,’ he complained. ‘I’d take an easy kill of some vampire or werewolf or something over setting up an apartment any day.’

‘There’s a lot of work involved,’ Castiel agreed, sitting next to him and feeling his legs start to relax like they briefly had outside earlier. ‘But satisfaction once everything is done.’

‘True,’ Dean agreed, ‘plus we get to kick back with movies and junk food now. And like I promised, I got as many ice cream flavors as I could find. Frozen yogurt, too.’

‘That sounds good,’ Castiel smiled timidly.

‘I’m gonna start setting up the first movie. You coming?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’m right behind you.’

The two of them left the bedroom. Castiel flicked the light off behind them. Dean headed over to the counter and grabbed the last bag, the one with the pile of DVDs in it, which was next to Cas’s box set of books, which he’d forgotten to find a place for. He picked them up and headed back into the bedroom to place them on one of the night stands, next to the lamp. They looked good there. They were the only thing Cas would allow himself to get attached to, nothing else. Not the living place, not the clothes, not even a single spoon in the kitchen, and definitely not seeing Dean every day. That was one thing he knew for sure wouldn’t happen after this whole experience was done.

He left the bedroom again while Dean was putting the DVD into the slot in the TV, Dean hearing his return.

‘I was thinking,’ Dean said, without looking at him, stepping back to look at the TV as the options on the DVD came up, ‘we could light up the fire, hit the lights, close the curtains, make this an experience. Sound like something we could do?’

Castiel nodded, shrugging. He didn’t really get what the “experience” thing was, essentially it was all just movies and junk food. Still, if Dean had suggested it, it must make some kind of difference.

‘Pass me the sheet with the instructions for this thing and close the curtains then set up the food on the coffee table,’ Dean instructed.

‘All of it?’ Castiel asked, in reference to the food, handing Dean the sheet from the worktop.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean grinned at him ominously. ‘The frozen stuff too. None of this is worth anything if you don’t feel like you’re gonna throw up at the end – just don’t do it on me like Sam did two years ago.’

‘I’ll try not to,’ Castiel replied, with a roll of his eyes as he headed for the curtains, ‘as long as you promise the same thing.’

‘You have my word.’

‘I better have your word,’ Cas muttered, thinking that being covered in vomit was something he’d rather not go through.

Cas grabbed as much of the junk from the counter as he could carry in one trip, and then he made second. A third brought over the beer and a fourth the coke and Pepsi and two glasses. It took another two trips to get all of the ice cream and frozen yogurt out of the deep but narrow freezer and onto the coffee table, and one final trip for spoons. By the time he’d transferred it all to the table, the electric fire was dancing in blue and orange underneath the television, and Dean was headed toward the lights.

Then there was darkness but for the fire and the bright screen, and Dean was suddenly beside him. He bent forward and pulled on the rug, drawing the table closer to them, picked up an extra-large bag of salted popcorn and burst it open.

‘The Avengers,’ Castiel read off the screen.

‘It’s a super hero thing,’ Dean told him. ‘I picked it first because it looks like one of the better ones and some of these guys I used to read about in comic stores when I was a kid the rare times I got to one.’

‘I think I’ve heard of the green one,’ Castiel frowned, wondering where. Probably an overheard conversation somewhere. ‘The Hulk?’

‘Yeah, that’s him,’ Dean grinned. ‘So, ready?’

‘Play it,’ Castiel nodded.

Dean pressed play and shoved his hand into the popcorn bag, getting a large handful of the stuff as the movie started. Some of it fell between his fingers and he realized something else.

‘We never got a vacuum.’

‘We can get one tomorrow.’

‘Or a sweeping brush. Or a mop.’

‘Tomorrow, Dean.’

‘There’s probably more stuff we don’t have.’

‘Shut up,’ Castiel instructed, already confused and intrigued by the start of the movie. ‘And pass the popcorn.’

Dean tilted the bag towards him, and they lapsed into silence.

Two and a half hours later, the biggest bag of popcorn was gone and so was most of the ice cream and frozen yogurt, and what they weren’t going to eat was placed back in the freezer by Cas while Dean put in the next movie in the pile, which was called Prometheus and was very different to The Avengers. Silver Linings Playbook followed Prometheus, which was an altogether completely different genre. They decided to stop after Snow White and the Huntsman, because it was only then they realized it was 2am.

They’d managed to get through over half the twelve pack and a large quantity of the junk food. Every packet of everything was open, the floor was a mess and so was the table, plus half of the bottle of Pepsi was gone, plus almost all the rest of the coke.

‘Told you we needed a vacuum,’ Dean pointed out, only just now realizing how tired he was.

‘Whatever,’ Castiel shrugged, seeming like he didn’t care, switching on the light and then grabbing things from the coffee table and taking them towards the cupboards to stuff them in.

‘We have a lot of movies left,’ Dean commented. ‘Round two tomorrow?’

‘Definitely,’ Castiel nodded, while Dean turned off the TV and went to turn off the fire. ‘You mentioned an actress who you described as “awesome.” I’d like to see her and judge for myself what I think.’

‘Then you will,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘I’m gonna go change,’ he decided. ‘Brush my teeth. It feels like I ate sugar cubes.’

‘I’ll put the rest of this away and pull out your bed for you,’ Castiel offered.

Dean smiled at him and for some reason this smile seemed … different and it gave Cas a strange sort of fluttering feeling in his chest.

‘I’m glad you’re here, man,’ Dean told him. ‘Really. I wouldn’t rather be here with anyone else.’

Castiel smiled at him, unable to fathom a response, but he barely had time before Dean had disappeared anyway.

With the rest of the stuff put away and the beers and the coke and the Pepsi put in the fridge, he went to get things set up for Dean when he got back. He doubted he’d be long. He pushed the coffee table back and out of the way, the rug with it, and took the cushions off the sofa, which he put behind it. He grabbed at the end of the bed, tucked neatly into the sofa, pulled it up and out along its entire length, then headed over to the one bed sheet that had yet to be used. It was harder to get it on alone, but once two corners went on the other two were easy. Dean came back just as he was finishing, rubbing the back of his neck, dressed in the same stuff he’d been sleeping in for the best two nights with his robe over his arm, probably for the morning until he had to get dressed.

‘The carpet in there is fluffy as fuck,’ Dean commented. ‘But this floor is cold. I’m gonna need to buy slippers.’

‘Slippers,’ Castiel realized, half distracted by the fact that he’d just heard Dean say the word “fluffy,” ‘I never thought of those. Me too.’

‘We’ll get them tomorrow. And bulbs. And a vacuum. And a sweeping brush. And a mop. And coasters. And –’

‘Goodnight, Dean.’

Castiel cut off Dean’s compulsive listing and headed out, to the bedroom. Then he remembered Dean’s blanket, or “duvet” as he called it, and pillows, so he hauled those back out just as Dean seemingly remembered them and was heading back in to get them.

‘You forgot these,’ Castiel stated flatly. Tired. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night,’ Dean called to his already retreating back, and he had the strangest feeling Dean was smiling at him as he left.

The first thing Cas did was close his curtains, and then he began to undress. He put his shoes next to his unopened shoe box, socks on top of them, figuring he wouldn’t want to put used socks in with Dean’s clean ones, then realizing he didn’t know if Dean had unpacked his third bag yet anyway. He put the clothes he was wearing with Dean’s clothes, too, and then finally, stripped off his faded and worn underwear hopefully never having to wear it again. He put it in his underwear drawer making a note to throw it out, and pulled on a pair of the new, clean boxers he’d bought today. Already he felt better. In fact, his sweats and the short sleeved, v-neck t-shirt he slipped into felt good too. It was a kind of new-clothes, _his_ clothes feeling he’d yet to experience.

It felt nicer to brush his teeth here, instead of in some motel, and unlike in last night’s motel, this mirror wasn’t cracked as he gazed at his reflection above the sink. He looked tired. He _felt_ tired. And warm. Very warm. Yet the tiles were cold, this bathroom welcoming yet unfamiliar. The other one was slightly more familiar, that was the one he and Dean had been using if they’d needed to when setting things up all day, but this one, with its bath and its shower and its neat pile of towels felt almost surreal, as surreal as the bedroom he returned to when he was done in the bathroom.

The bed, never before slept in, was soft when he climbed in after turning out the light. And the room was dark. The blanket was heavy over him, the sheets soft, the pillows softer, yet he couldn’t find sleep right away. Maybe it was the heavy, uneasy feeling in his stomach of having eaten too much for the first time, or maybe it was the heat radiating through the place thanks to the fire, or maybe it was the new and unfamiliar smell of freshness and moist air he had yet to get used to. He tossed and turned a little, in his bed, in his bedroom, something he could barely comprehend was real, and decided maybe removing his shirt would make things cooler. It did, and he tossed it to the floor, he’d pick it up in the morning.

The sheets were cool against his now bare torso, yet quickly warming up to his body’s temperature. He slid over to the other side of the bed, and it was cool, and he liked it. He liked having a big blanket and two pillows and two sides of the bed to sleep on, he liked being able to make out the shape of the long curtains as his eyes adjusted in the darkness, he like being able to see the shape of his books that Dean had gotten him. He liked falling asleep with the blanket at his waist and between his knees and he liked being _here_.

He did _not_ like being awoken by Dean banging on his door and saying his name _two hours_ later according to his phone, which he’d placed on his nightstand earlier and just checked the time on.

‘What?’ Castiel called out, wishing the constant knocking would stop. Dean opened the door and Castiel sat up in bed, suddenly aware that the knocking was continuing but he could see Dean in the light coming in through the doorway.

‘Dude,’ Dean stated.

‘What’s that?’ Castiel asked, squinting past Dean in search of … a rogue hammer or something. He didn’t know.

‘I have no fucking clue,’ Dean stated. ‘But come here.’

‘Do I have to?’

‘Yes.’

Groaning, Castiel pushed himself the rest of the way up and got to his feet. While he did that, Dean had slid open the closet, having noticed Cas’s naked upper body, and he tossed him the new robe he’d gotten, which Cas slipped on and held closed with his crossed arms, walking out to meet Dean as he pressed his ear against the wall in the hallway, next to the small bathroom.

‘C’mere,’ Dean insisted. ‘Can you hear that?’

Castiel pressed his ear against the wall. He could hear a faint whistle, it sounded like a person whistling, and the banging had suddenly gotten very loud. The banging sounded like it was in time to whatever the person was whistling.

‘Dean, it’s four in the morning. We were up until after two. Why did you wake me up just to listen to some banging?’

‘Because I’ve been trying to sleep through that shit for a half hour.’

‘Tell them to stop.’

‘It’s our neighbor. We’re the new ones here. We’ll look like assholes.’

‘Then let us look like assholes,’ Castiel whined. ‘I’m tired.’

‘So am I.’

‘Well, then.’

Castiel stopped speaking and banged on the wall, glaring at Dean. All of a sudden, the knocking stopped.

‘Hello?’ the voice of what sounded like a young woman called through the wall. Castiel continued to glare at Dean in a way that reminded him of Cas in the early days, demanding and in control.

‘Uh, hey,’ Dean called awkwardly, keeping his eyes on Cas’s. ‘Sorry to bother you. Just … wondering if you could keep the banging to a minimum. Trying to sleep in here.’

Castiel wondered why Dean, the man he’d seen slice and dice things and spill blood mercilessly, was being so sheepish about it. Then again, it was monsters he killed, but he always seemed to be nice to _people_ unless they were bad people.

‘I’m sorry,’ came the reply. ‘I’ll stop.’

‘Much appreciated,’ Dean replied, looking as awkward as he sounded.

Several seconds of silence passed.

‘There,’ Castiel declared. ‘Problem solved. You didn’t need to wake me.’

‘You didn’t need to bang so harshly,’ Dean muttered. ‘You’re grumpy.’

‘I was asleep.’

‘So was I. You don’t see me being all– fuck. If looks could kill, man.’

Dean’s mid-sentence change had been aided by Castiel’s slow eyebrow arch of just one eyebrow that had always intimidated Dean whenever it was raised.  

‘I wish they could,’ Castiel muttered, and immediately became filled with regret at Dean’s surprised little eyebrow raise and his hand shot forward onto Dean’s shoulder. ‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said quickly, waking up quite suddenly. ‘I was just–’

‘Tired and kidding. I know. Don’t worry about it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel stated. ‘I’m really sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Dean replied. ‘Go on. Go back to bed. Next time there’s knocking I’ll leave you alone.’

‘I appreciate that. Goodnight. Again.’

‘Night,’ Dean laughed, and Castiel cursed him for being so alert after so little sleep and a rude awakening. ‘And Cas?’

Cas turned back from where he had turned to go back to bed and looked expectantly at Dean.

‘Nice warding tattoo,’ Dean grinned mischievously at him.

Castiel pulled his robe closed again, thinking next time he should definitely tie it, rolled his eyes and turned wordlessly away from Dean, knowing he didn’t need to respond as he went back to bed.

 _Well that sounded fucking gay_ Dean cursed himself as he headed back towards his sofa bed. _Could’ve kept your mouth shut._

Or he could’ve just not fucking _looked_.

He didn’t look. He just accidentally saw. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Last time he’d seen Cas without a shirt the guy had been dead. Bleeding. Brutally stabbed. He hadn’t noticed the tattoo, just the _gaping hole and the fucking knife sticking out of it_.

He was sure Cas had thought nothing of his comment. He could tell it was just meaningless joking, trying to lighten the mood, show Cas that the “I wish they could” comment was well and jokingly received …

He shoved his face into his pillow once the light was off and he’d gotten into his bed. He supposed there would probably be more than one instance where they accidentally saw each other … not fully dressed. This building was hot, the fire had been on for hours and for November, the weather had frighteningly high temperatures.

Plus, it _was_ hot. And Cas was in his own bedroom in his own bed alone and had every right to sleep with his shirt off. He had every right to sleep however he damn well pleased.

It wasn’t Cas’s fault he was attractive and Dean had not failed to notice that.

Dean turned onto his back. Staring at the ceiling. If he concentrated on staring at the ceiling and doing nothing else, maybe he’d be able to stop thinking about Cas in bed in the bedroom just feet away. Somehow their current situation was giving him more odd thoughts than the one from last night, where they’d literally been sharing a bed.

Eventually, he found sleep among an array of confusing thoughts.

Castiel woke up feeling better than he had either time he’d gone to sleep. It was even warmer now, and Cas may have taken a shower yesterday morning but after all the junk he’d eaten and all the moving around yesterday he felt like he needed another. He lay in bed for several minutes, a hand behind his head and sighed when he figured he’d best get up. The time on his phone said it was going on ten.

He threw on his discarded shirt and headed to the door, opening it as softly as he could. He went forward and looked over at the living area and saw Dean was still asleep, so he retreated. He had time to take a shower before Dean woke up, he was sure. It wasn’t like this morning he’d be doing anything more than showering, he didn’t need to.

Unless he _wanted_ to, but he was still a little tired and was hoping the shower would wake him up.

So he got clothes to wear for the day, picking out a blue plaid shirt with the main blue being a similar shade to his old work vest, plus his darker jeans that were a little on the grey-blue side. He could put on shoes and socks later, it’s not like if Dean accidentally walked in and saw – _gasp_ – his feet something extreme would happen.

In the bathroom, he placed a towel from the towel rack outside the shower and put his clothes for the day on the toilet seat, dumping his shirt and sweats on the ground by the door and his underwear with his clothes. He stepped into the shower, shiny, new, and set the temperature knob to five. It went up as far as ten. He pressed the button on the shower – it was an electric shower – that made the water come out, and at first it came out cold.

Cas dodged out of the way and let it run over his hand until it head heated up and then pulled the head back towards him. It was better than any shower he’d ever been in, better even than the one in the bunker, which he recalled had great water pressure. He wondered what things would have been like if he’d gotten to stay in the bunker the whole time. He’d been very comfortable there, with Sam and Dean, at ease, and it really wasn’t like any other place on Earth and seemed like it would have been easier to adapt to, likely skipping all the uncomfortable afraid to do anything parts. Maybe he just thought that because he would be around both Sam and Dean. And Dean, well, _Dean_ was …

Dean. He was Dean. And there was something about Dean that he just …

It was harder to be around Dean and feel completely at ease, because he … _felt_ something different around Dean.

But when Sam was there too, everything was easier. He had an easy friend in Sam, someone he didn’t feel the need to impress at every turn, to never show weakness around. So when Sam was there, the pressure was off of him, because it was the three of them, and it would have been the three of them in a big spacious place, much bigger than a motel room, or even this apartment he was now living alone with Dean in. With no Sam to take the pressure away.

He picked up the shampoo off of the small little in-shower shelf, which also had two hooks on it where their respective spongers were hanging. It was his second time using a decent shampoo, not a cheap brand or that soap stuff in a motel, and it was definitely better than all the other crap he’d used. As he washed his hair he wondered if, at some point, he could ever move into the bunker with Sam and Dean. When whatever the reason the preventing him from doing so was over and done with, the reason he just had to trust Dean on. He liked it there.

It was a very contemplative shower, his deep thoughts only stopping when he used the sponge, the suds forming on that much easier than on his hand as he wiped it over his skin. He preferred the sponge to just using his hands to wash himself.

When he opened the door he picked up the towel before stepping out, dragging over his limbs to stem the dripping and toweling at his hair so that would stop dripping too, then he tied it around his waist and went towards the sink and the cabinet under it and the mirror above it, where he brushed his teeth and washed his face and shaved and attempted to fix his hair after taking off the towel and attempting to dry it some more, feeling very in charge of himself as he did all of it. He enjoyed the whole getting up in the morning thing, the getting ready to face the day, instead of just being constantly ready.

Although, being constantly ready did come in handy sometimes, like last night Dean wouldn’t have awoken him like that, he would have been awake already. And he wouldn’t have made that stupid joke he wanted to slap himself for making, and he wouldn’t have felt his cheeks burning when Dean jokingly complimented him on his tattoo.

He wondered briefly if sleeping without a shirt, having Dean accidentally see him without one, was a mistake. Then again, he didn’t know Dean was going to come in. And it’s not like … he’d seen anything inappropriate. It was perfectly okay for people to see the unclothed male upper body. What was taboo was seeing females’ upper bodies completely unclothed, something Cas didn’t understand at all. They were basically the same thing apart from the fact that women had breasts, so it was more respectful to look away, and it was supposedly even better if the women just kept their clothes on … that was something that was pretty stupid.

Back in his room, clothes he was wearing last night in hand, Cas folded them and put them away. He’d left the towel he’d used in the bathroom hanging over the radiator in there to dry, figuring it was good for another shower or two before he’d need to wash it. He put his discarded robe away too, then pulled on clean socks and his new shoes, which felt better than his old ones. He’d try wiping the old ones out with some soap and water later, when he got around to it or had time, like he’d planned.

He made his bed and looked at himself in the mirror that hung beside it, making sure he looked okay. He didn’t know why he was worried about looking okay, it’s not as though he was trying to impress anyone. Looking at himself, he figured, yeah. He was “kinda pretty” as Dean had put it and felt some self-satisfaction when he thought about that, and the fact that Dean took notice of that too. He wasn’t sure why that pleased him so much.

Now he was dressed and ready, he slipped his phone into his pocket and made note to charge it later as his battery was in the red and would probably die in his pocket, then realized he didn’t have a charger, then it was back with the rest of his old things at the store he used to work at. Maybe they could pick one up while out again today.

He opened his curtains and saw it was bright, turned off the light and quietly opened his door. He stepped out and he could see already that the sofa bed was tucked away and the bed things were on the sofa that remained, and Dean was nowhere to be seen. Cas closed the bedroom door behind him and stepped out into the room, looking around, and spotted Dean at the table with his hand in a bag of chips and his laptop out, charger plugged into the socket in the wall near the table.

‘Morning,’ Castiel called, making Dean’s head whip around. Dean grinned at him.

‘Morning,’ he greeted. ‘Lookin’ good. How do you feel now that you’ve got your own clothes?’

‘Less afraid of messing them up,’ Castiel admitted truthfully. ‘Have you been up for long?’

‘Fifteen minutes or so,’ Dean shrugged as Cas approached. ‘Breakfast?’ he asked, holding out the bag of chips.

‘Very nutritious,’ Cas smiled, taking some chips and moving to sit across from Dean, surveying him with a tilted head, taking note of how he was staring at his computer screen, robe hanging loosely off his shoulders as if he wasn’t really bothered with it. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Some research on this building,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Thought we should get started early.’

‘And?’

‘It was built two years ago,’ Dean started, ‘before that there was nothing here but a parking lot which ran off into a green with a fountain in it. They got rid of the fountain and the lot, so here we are. No violent deaths in the building until this thing started killing.’

‘What about in the parking lot?’ Castiel asked. ‘There could have been crashes.’

‘None that I can find anything on,’ Dean told him, shaking his head. ‘We’re going in blind on this one. We’ll just have to wait for the thing to show up and trap it to find out more.’

‘Have you ever done that before?’

‘A few times,’ Dean nodded. He sighed. ‘I’m done here. Anything you want to use this for?’

There were a few things Castiel had want to look up at _some_ point, but now was most certainly not the time.

‘No,’ he answered, shaking his head. He noticed there was still coffee in the pot in the coffee maker and nodded towards it. ‘Is that still good?’

‘Yeah, I made it not too long before you came out here. Coffee and chips. Great way to start the day.’

‘Well, we still have to go shopping,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘For a few things,’ Dean agreed, offering him the chip bag again, which he took from. ‘I figured we could go back to that mall again and pick up a few things, drop the stuff off and then walk over to that grocery store across the street on the corner and grab stuff there. That’s where I got the junk – you in?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘And I need a phone charger. I haven’t charged mine in days and it’s about to die. It’s only survived this long because I kept it turned off for the drive here.’

‘Then I’ll add that to the list,’ Dean decided, closing his laptop, getting to his feet and heading over to the counter, where there was a notepad and pen, the notepad presumably from Dean’s mysterious third bag containing the thing Cas didn’t want to think about that he’d encountered.

Dean moved on from writing down about the charger and over to the cupboard where he got a clean mug and poured another cup of coffee, bringing it over to Cas. Cas thanked him and Dean took his own empty mug over to the sink.

‘I’m gonna shower,’ he decided. ‘Then we can go out.’

‘I think I’m going to read while you’re in the shower,’ Castiel decided. ‘And finish these chips.’

‘I’ve had half the bag,’ Dean told him. ‘They fill you up pretty good. Want to get your book before I go in there?’

Castiel nodded and did just that. When he came back out, Dean was picking up his bed things to place in the bedroom. Dean smiled at him as they passed each other and Cas smiled back, enjoying the fact that he was getting to smile so much. It really brightened his mood.

He sat back down at the table with his book and his chips and the coffee Dean had poured for him and took a drink, thinking that so far this whole thing had been easy. Movies and darkness with Dean hadn’t made anything feel unusual, the early-AM incident had been more of an annoyance than what could have turned into an awkward encounter, and this morning had been straight up pleasant. Maybe he’d overreacted in all of his thoughts and worries. Maybe this would be easy.

But it was only day one, night one here already over, with many more to come.

Castiel had only just settled into his reading when there was a knock on the door. He marked his page and closed his book, going towards the door cautiously. He opened it, wary of what could be on the other side, and he was greeted with a smiling woman, her dark hair in an updo, a pleasant blouse-tucked-in-skirt combo going on, and in her arms a basket covered by a small piece of cloth.

‘Hello,’ the woman greeted, extending a hand, which Castiel shook automatically despite not knowing who the hell this woman was. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, but I read about your arrival in the newsletter this morning and just _had_ to come by and welcome you to the building. My name is Dalia, I live down the hall, apartment four-B, and you must be one of the Winchesters, correct?’

Castiel was surprised to hear the newsletter had come out so fast. Perhaps it would be awaiting him and Dean if they were to check for mail. Another thing that struck him as odd was the fact that he now had to answer to the name _Winchester_ – it had been odd yesterday, more so today.

‘Castiel,’ he told her, nodding.

‘Such an interesting name,’ Dalia mused. ‘Do you know where it comes from?’

‘Uh,’ Castiel thought for a moment, deciding not to lie, ‘the Bible.’

‘Ooh, those kinds of biblical names aren’t something you hear a lot of these days,’ Delia replied, smiling up at him from her small heels as if he were the most fascinating thing in the world. ‘If it’s from the bible, it’s usually Michael or Luke or John – do you know where yours is from?’

‘An angel, I think,’ Castiel shrugged, smiling to himself at the joke, the smile also working as a friendly smile in the face of a neighbor. Then, remembering to be polite, he offered, ‘would you like to come in?’

‘Ooh, please,’ Dalia nodded, so Cas stood back and allowed her inside and closed the door behind her, wondering if everyone in this building was so up-beat and not really objecting to it.

‘Can I offer you anything?’ he asked, doing what Dean would do. ‘We don’t have much, but we have coffee. But we don’t have milk or anything else. The pot is still fresh.’

‘You don’t mind?’

‘Of course not,’ Castiel replied. ‘Please, take a seat. I’ll just move this …’

He moved Dean’s laptop to the other side of the table and pulled a chair out for her. She placed her basket on the ground and sat down, watching him as he went over and began to pour her a cup of coffee, nerves tingling slightly, but in the shop he’d dealt with strangers every day, some friendly and some not so friendly, so this should be easy. Passing as a regular human should be easy.

‘Thank you so much,’ Dalia smiled up at him. ‘You seem to have gotten yourselves set up nicely already.’

‘We spent all day yesterday shopping,’ Castiel nodded, taking his seat across from her. He pushed his book and chips away, not wanting to seem rude. ‘But there’s a lot we apparently still don’t have. Dean, my … boyfriend, he made a list so we’ll be going out again today.’

Boyfriend. Weird. Dean seemed to say it so easily, but Cas had trouble.

‘Ah, I remember when I first moved here,’ Dalia contemplated. ‘It took me weeks to settle in. I’m very forgetful. It seems like the two of you don’t have that problem – is he, Dean around or –?’

‘He’s just in the shower,’ Castiel told her. ‘He shouldn’t be long.’

‘Ah,’ Dalia nodded, sipping her coffee and placing it down. ‘So as I said – thought I’d be neighborly and drop by, and I didn’t know if you would have much in the food department so I brought you a basket of muffins, a mix and match of this and that. I work at a bakery, see, and what doesn’t get sold in a day we get to take home even if it’s still perfectly fresh.’

Cas had been wondering what was in the basket she’d brought, the gesture reaffirming his faith in the genuine kindness and good heartedness of humanity. He liked people. He truly liked people, and when people were nice, and good, it helped him remember why.

‘I’m sure they’ll be very much appreciated,’ Castiel smiled at her. ‘All we have is junk food. We sort of stayed up late watching movies last night.’

‘Ah, a good old fashioned movie night,’ Dalia nodded, chuckling to herself. ‘I’ve been through a few myself. I’m glad I thought to bring these over. And if there’s every any baked goods you need, you know who to come to.’

‘I’m sure Dean will be very appreciative of having a baker as a neighbor,’ Castiel commented, amused at his own thought. ‘He loves pie. He’s practically obsessed with it.’

‘Well we have all kinds of pies down at our bakery, and often not all of them are sold within a day,’ Dalia replied, eyes twinkling. ‘I dare say we can keep him stocked up with all of his pie-needs.’

‘I’m sure that will make him very happy.’

‘And that’s exactly want we want,’ Dalia grinned. ‘Happiness goes hand in hand with health, unless you eat one sweet thing too many.’

Castiel laughed at that. He liked Dalia, he liked having company, he liked doing this. It was _easy_.

The two of them talked for a while about this and that. She asked about how long he and Dean had been together, about why they moved here and about their writing. Castiel actually read her an extract from the fake book, a part about demons which he recognized to be influenced by reality. She enjoyed it immensely, and then he went on to learning about her.

Dalia was chipper, but her backstory less so. She’d moved here a year and a half ago after facing back lash from some of the more ignorant people in her old building in another city over the fact that she was transgender, but here she was well accepted and made many friends in and out of the building. She went on to tell Cas a little about the area and about the great places close by, like for food and for urgent needs and for nights out.

Dean arrived when the two of them had finished their coffee and had opened up the basket of muffins and had one each. Cas’s was blueberry, and he liked it a lot. Castiel looked up and smiled when he saw Dean approaching, trying to make it look as though his face were lighting up at the site of him, while Dean gave him an impressed look with raised eyebrows.

‘I see we have company,’ he commented.

‘This is Dalia,’ Castiel informed him, as Dean took a seat next to him. ‘She lives down the hall. She brought us muffins.’

‘I like anyone who brings food,’ Dean joked, grinning and reaching out a hand across the table. ‘I’m Dean. Pleasure to meet you.’

‘You too, you too,’ Dalia beamed at him. ‘I’ve heard so much about you.’

‘Have you?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows at Cas.

‘You may have come up a few times,’ Cas shrugged at him, looking indifferent and almost a little smug.

‘All good things?’

‘Of course,’ Castiel frowned at him.

‘Most _definitely_ ,’ Dalia confirmed.

‘Good,’ Dean grinned, then joked, ‘I won’t have to kick him out, then.’

That got a laugh out of Dalia, plus a minor glare out of Cas. It wasn’t even a pretending to be a couple thing, he _knew_ Dean could kick him out, and if he did he was gonna be pissed. But at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t.

The three of them continued to talk. They went over the basics of the earlier conversation again and Dalia promised Dean all of the pie he could ever hope for, which led to Dean laughing and briefly putting his arm around Cas while thanking him for letting his relationship with pie be known, which led to Cas patting Dean’s arm and the two of them laughing in harmony while Dalia looked on and gave a low ‘awwww’ at their actions.

Dalia left after she finished her muffin, telling the two of them that there was no rush on returning the basket, and she bid them a high energy farewell.

‘She was nice,’ Dean commented. ‘And you did good, man.’

‘Was I believable?’ Castiel asked.

‘One hundred percent,’ Dean confirmed. ‘As a human, totally believable. As my oh-so devoted boyfriend? You practically started glowing when I walked in. You know, if this whole hunter thing doesn’t work out, you should be an actor. Play all the pretty-boy rolls in the rom-coms.’

‘The …?’

‘Romantic comedies.’

‘I’ll consider it as a career option.’

‘You should. Focus all that energy on whatever super-hot girl they cast to fall madly in love with you and you’ve practically won an Oscar.’

‘A what?’

‘Big movie award.’

‘I’ll clear a space above the fire for my impending Oscar, then, shall I?’ he asked Dean, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head, proud of his imaginary achievement, also dwelling on the fact that Dean had practically called him a “pretty-boy.”

‘It should go right in the center,’ Dean nodded. ‘Screw the book.’

‘Speaking of the book,’ Castiel recalled, ‘I read an extract to Dalia. The extract was about a demon called Red seducing a demon hunter.’

‘Damn it, Sam,’ Dean muttered. ‘He gets a girl one time and has to boast about it in a book. We get it, Sam. You got laid. It was years ago. Get over it.’

Castiel laughed, not his small laugh, but his big laugh where he showed his teeth.

‘Maybe he’s proud of the fact that his charm is so irresistible he managed to trick a creature from hell into sleeping with him.’

‘She tricked him, more like,’ Dean muttered, getting to his feet and heading over to make a fresh pot of coffee. ‘So, what else did you two talk about?’

Castiel repeated the gist of the conversation while he and Dean drank more coffee and ate more muffins, across from each other again. Dean nodded along, applauding some of Cas’s slightly wittier responses when it came to what he was telling her about the whole relationship thing, and listened very carefully to the parts where he told him what she’d told him about the places to get the best takeout food.

‘She has much knowledge,’ Dean nodded. ‘I approve.’

‘You approve of what?’

‘Her as a neighbor,’ Dean replied. ‘Better than whoever was knocking on the wall at four in the morning.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I prefer people who don’t cause other people to wake me up in the middle of the night, which then causes me to make a stupid joke I don’t mean. I’m sorry.’

‘You already said,’ Dean told him. ‘And I got the joke. It was funny and you were pissed.’

‘Yes, I was,’ Castiel agreed, ‘but I’m still sorry.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean finally accepted the apology.

They dropped that subject and moved on, back into topics discussed with Dalia. When they got into the subject of why Dalia had left her old place, the two of them got a little darker and some discussion passed between them of the bad sides of humanity.

‘I can almost say I know for a fact that that’s not how God intended for people to behave,’ Castiel muttered disapprovingly, scowling at the table. ‘Humanity disgusts me sometimes, until I remember the good side of it. The side that brings muffins to strangers. The side that disrupts their own lives to live in an unfamiliar area, posing as a couple just to save the lives of strangers. The side that creates an entire book for his brother to help out with a case.’

‘I agree,’ Dean sighed, putting down his finished cup and sighing. ‘You done?’

Castiel nodded and asked, ‘should we go?’

‘I think so,’ Dean said, getting to his feet. ‘A later start than I thought we’d have but we don’t have much to get today.’

Dean grabbed his jacket, which yesterday he’d draped over the back of one of the chairs.

‘I’m just going to grab my jacket and put this away,’ Castiel decided, grabbing his book and standing up.

‘You got a jacket?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Of course. It could get cold.’

‘Fair point.’

Dean was waiting by the door when Castiel returned, and the two of them left the apartment just as their next door neighbor was leaving his and beamed at them.

‘Howdy, new neighbors,’ he greeted. Large, bearded, possibly around Sam’s height. Definitely not a girl whistling and knocking on the wall, but something akin to what would be described as a bear in the gay community.

‘Hey there,’ Dean greeted back, while Cas nodded at him.

Their next door neighbor smiled and all three of them headed down the hallway together, light conversation beginning as they did. He was friendly, less upbeat than everyone else they’d met so far, yet still a seemingly happy person.  

There was just one slightly strange thing about the situation: who exactly had they spoken to at four in the morning if not their next door neighbor?


	8. You Deserve It

This venture out went much faster. They arrived at the mall faster now they knew where it was, and found everything on the list faster too. It was the same vibe between them this time around, their minds working in easy synchronization with little contrast. They were on the same page for everything they bought, not that there was much in the way of argument. The biggest argument to be had was what color vacuum to get and it was a choice between shiny brown or brilliant red, the red being the obvious choice because the brown, though glossy and shiny, looked vaguely like swamp water.

Their return was brief and it only took one trip to carry the things upstairs, Cas holding the box with the vacuum and on top of that, one with a toaster – (‘Dude, how could we forget that?’) with a carrier bag hanging from his wrist, Dean carrying the sweeping brush and mop, with a dustpan in the mop bucket he was carrying in his other hand, and a kettle for boiling water for the hot chocolate they’d gotten.

They unboxed the vacuum and placed that and the rest of the larger cleaning supplies against the wall next to the oven, in the empty space between the oven and the window. The unboxed the toaster and the kettle and set those up. The rest of the things they left in the bag on the counter to be dealt with when they got back, and then they left again, this time heading for the front doors instead of the parking lot.

On their way out, they checked their mail slot, and there was indeed a newsletter in there which Castiel held onto for safe keeping, folded and in his pocket, neat and secure.

‘So, it comes out on Saturdays,’ Dean noted.

‘And is fast to report,’ Castiel added. ‘It seems like, despite the vast number of tenants, they seem to be tight knit. And very welcoming.’

‘First Dalia, then Dave,’ Dean agreed with him. ‘That knocking thing, though … do you think he was lying when he said there’s no one else living in his apartment?’

There had been a brief conversation in the elevator with their next door neighbor, Dave, in which they’d cautiously asked him if he lived alone. He had confirmed that he did.

‘He didn’t seem to be,’ Castiel frowned. ‘I couldn’t spot any of the signs that he was lying. He seemed to be perfectly calm, although if I was still an angel I’d be able to tell better.’

‘How?’ Dean asked.

‘I’d be able to try and listen in to his heartbeat and see if it accelerated. Angels can zone in on things like that with enough concentration, and heartrates usually accelerate with lying.’

‘I didn’t know you knew that,’ Dean frowned.

‘I didn’t always,’ Castiel told him, ‘but over time I picked up on that and a number of other things.’

‘What kinds of other things?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Some are so mundane that they hardly matter. Others are better kept to myself.’

Dean raised his eyebrows, more intrigued than ever.

‘Is that so?’ he asked, somewhat a challenge.

‘Yes, Dean,’ Castiel replied evenly, ‘it is.’

Dean made a slight ‘huh’ noise, but didn’t reply, so they fell into silence as they crossed the street, the crosswalk the colors of the pride flag and looking much brighter and more appealing than your average black and white. Once they were across they veered left for the corner, and Dean found himself realizing that this was the first time in a long time that he and Cas had walked side by side through the streets with a destination in mind that wasn’t something to do with the location of a monster or a person they were spying on, that they were just walking together normally with no danger at the end … unless the store was run by monsters or something. Then they were fucked.

Grocery shopping was generally something Dean enjoyed because it meant he got to buy things he liked, long as he bought whatever Sam told him to too, which usually included health crap and leafy food for the giant rabbit by the name of Sam Winchester. Sure, it was sort of a medial task, wandering aisles with a basket and filling it with necessities, but it wasn’t so bad.

The bought all of the essentials they would need day to day, plus some other things too. Frozen pizza and other frozen treats, pop tarts, toaster waffles, packaged pancakes to be heated up in a frying pan, just this and that that Dean liked, or things that Castiel pointed at thinking they looked nice. Dean also bought some spaghetti too, some canned meatballs and a jar of sauce, because after all he’d mentioned to Cas that they could cook some. Even after Cas’s maggots joke.

Dean liked it when Cas made jokes, and he looked happy and he liked it when he pointed at something for them to buy, especially when that something was a jar of Nutella because damn Dean could eat that shit with a spoon and he almost hadn’t noticed it in the shelf because he was too busy staring at Cas’s enjoyment of their activity.

The shortest line at one of the checkouts had just one other person in front of them, so they went for that. They’d ended up filling two baskets with things, which led to a lot of bags each to carry back, plastic twisting around their fingers as the bags swung while the walked.

‘You happy with what we got?’ Dean asked.

‘It all seems satisfactory,’ Castiel grinned. ‘Although, we still have a lot of muffins and junk food to finish off.’

‘We’ll manage,’ Dean promised. ‘So – three thirty. What should we do for the rest of the day?’

Castiel shrugged.

‘We still have movies left to watch,’ he answered. ‘We could start early and finish … not at two in the morning.’

‘We could have food delivered later,’ Dean decided. ‘When we get back you could start unpacking this stuff and I can head out and look for some takeout menus, get a few from the places Dalia suggested so we have options.’

‘Oh, so I’m always going to be the one doing the manual labor,’ Castiel joked. ‘Yesterday the clothes, today the food.’

‘We could trade,’ Dean suggested, although he knew Cas was joking.

‘No thank you,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’d rather not risk getting lost on these streets.’

‘But you’d risk me getting lost.’

‘It’s a chance I’ll have to take.’

Castiel was most certainly joking now, but Dean still muttered ‘rude’ despite knowing it, making Cas chuckle and then Dean grin as they crossed over the rainbow road towards their building.

‘I’ll have to call Sam, too,’ Dean recalled. ‘I’ll do it while I’m out so he doesn’t accidentally overhear anything that could be traced back to you.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean shrugged, ‘maybe he’d recognize your breathing in the background. Who knows what’s going on in his head?’

‘I highly doubt that he’d recognize my breathing,’ Castiel frowned, ‘but I understand your point. It’s better to do it where there’s background noise that could disguise any slip ups.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean nodded in agreement.

In the lobby, they passed a few people who nodded or smiled or greeted them as they passed. Most of them were getting their mail, reminding Cas of the newsletter in his pocket, one seemed to be returning from the pool due to their dampness and their proximity to the corridor that led to the indoor pool, and another was about to ascend the stairs.

Dean was out as soon as he was in, leaving Cas with all the bags. He was getting used to walking through the building now. It was still odd and new and extremely bright compared to what he was used to, in literal brightness due to all the glass and in atmospheric brightness due to how clean and precise everything was, but it was becoming less estranging. He still didn’t feel as though he belonged there, though, and even walking through the place he felt like there was a spotlight on him of people wanting to know his name and his story and his sexuality, and he still didn’t know whether he was pretending to be totally gay or whether he should just suck it up and admit he was bi to these strangers for the short time he was here.

But then if Sam asked, and Dean said he’d been pretending to be bi, and Sam said that that was oddly specific for a lie for a case … that would lead to annoying, probing questions and jests because Sam was a complete and total asshole whose sense of humor often made Dean want to shove a rake up his ass.

Hopefully people wouldn’t ask for specifics. All they needed to know – or think – was that he and Cas were together, and the details they could make up for themselves.

The spotlight still burned him though. He figured it would be another thing he’d have to get used to.

The area looked complicated at first glance outside and it looked like it would in fact be easy to get lost in, but memorizing the spots of certain buildings, he thought he’d be good. He’d survived so far following the roads in the car, so it should be the same on foot.

The places were all just blocks from each other, across the roads from each other and next to each other and on opposite corners and all sorts according to Dalia, so Dean didn’t see why he should bother wasting gas and facing the hum of traffic just to drive to a few different streets, park and go into multiple places on each street.

The streets were ripe with pedestrians, yet Dean didn’t feel like he fit in with a single one of them. He’d been to countless places in his life and was always new somewhere, always the outsider, yet here he was a pie in a sea of salads. Or … something normal sounding.

Maybe he’d never feel like he fit in here. He wondered how Cas felt about it.

Cas, who was being so great about everything, so eager to do whatever it took to get settled in, adapting to humanity so well, embracing the sarcasm attempting to burst free within him, though he was still holding back and immensely, ever apologetic at the slightest joke which Dean thought was genuinely funny and well timed, in relation to the one last night. He found grumpy, sleepy Cas _hilarious_ and wanted to see more. He was tempted to wake him again tonight just to see what he would do.

Of course, he wouldn’t do that. He would never disturb Cas without having a reason.

But he liked to watch Cas, to observe him in his various states. To dwell on the fact that this guy was an angel, and once he’d been the biggest dick he’d ever known, practically a super-mean robot angel, and now he was reading A Game of Thrones and picking out Nutella, and getting up at four in the morning with his hair messed up and no shirt on to deal with Dean’s shit, the shit he could barely tolerate when they’d first met.

Castiel was genuinely fascinating. And Dean couldn’t be more happy for how far he’d come.

All he wanted was for Cas to be happy during all of this. No matter what happened in the process, as long as he got to see Cas smile and laugh and relax and have a good time for once in his formerly endless existence.

And with all these menus he was getting, food-based happiness wouldn’t be an issue. The building was in a _very_ good area indeed.

With all the menus, he began to head back.

This was possibly one of the oddest cases he’d ever been on, the one he had to put the most blind faith into. Trapping a ghost, which could show up at any time … he ought to haul in one of the sacks of salt from the trunk in case of emergency salt-circle needs. Literally all they could do was wait this one out, live lives …

But what exactly could they do every day? Watch TV, read … that’s where the line stopped. Search the internet, maybe. On days off when it was just him and Sam in the bunker, Dean spent a lot of time in his bedroom, often with a beer and some porn, then he’d wander out and watch some TV, grab some food. Maybe read a little if he was in the mood. But he couldn’t do that with Cas – he didn’t want to seem like he was ignoring him, and he didn’t have his own room either so he didn’t have anywhere to lock himself in with a magazine or a video on the internet and a hand or two depending on how horny he was.

No, Cas was the one who had the opportunity to lock himself in his bedroom with porn. Not that Dean thought he’d do that, because Dean still didn’t know if Cas was into that – not that he wanted to find out. Cas had talked about experimenting. He wondered what he’d meant by that. Did he mean, like, with having more sex after all of this was done? With men? More women? Other genders?

Or did he mean like … getting off to different kinds of porn?

Jesus Christ, now he was thinking about Cas getting himself off and he almost walked head on into traffic and he needed that image out of his head right fucking now. He was going to have to keep his thoughts under fucking control.

Cas was his friend, not some random hot guy.

Cas was his _friend_ who happened to be a hot guy.

_Who he was not allowed to think of as a hot guy._

Mother fucking stirrings in inappropriate places while he was _trying_ to just casually walk through the doors of the building in which he lived, and he didn’t want to do that with a fucking tent pole sticking out of his crotch.

Spaghetti. He could think of spaghetti, which he was going to cook tomorrow, with sauce and meatballs.

 _Because of course he needed to be fucking thinking of balls right now._ Cas had balls. And a dick. And was a hot guy –

 _But he was Cas_.

Dean didn’t know why his thoughts had suddenly carried him off on this rollercoaster, why he had so little control over his dick that it was like he was fifteen years old or something, or why he enjoyed the thought of Cas upstairs waiting for him to get back.

He’d probably be happy to see him, looking at him from wherever he was with that little smile, the quirk of his lips upwards and the light in his eyes. It wasn’t often someone was happy to see Dean, especially not happy to see him every time he walked into a room. He remembered how Cas had looked at him this morning, when Dalia had been over, and Cas had had to look at Dean like he was the most cherished thing in the world.

He liked it when Cas looked at him like that. He didn’t know why, he just did.

Tonight, they were going to finish off their movie night with junk and muffins and takeout. And tomorrow, Dean was going to make spaghetti, and they were going to find some way to keep themselves entertained. They were going to make this work, and Dean was going to keep his thoughts in check the entire time.

It was only when he reentered the apartment that he realized he’d forgotten to call Sam.

Cas was sitting on the couch, with a mug in front of him on the coffee table. A shudder of domesticity ran down Dean’s spine, but he didn’t object to it. Then he noticed the area on the floor around Cas’s feet was free of crumbs and stay popcorn pieces.

‘You vacuumed,’ Dean stated, heading over towards where Cas was sitting, tossing the menus down on the coffee table lightly.

‘It wasn’t that hard to figure out,’ Castiel shrugged, closing his book. Dean liked seeing him with his own copy of the book, and that type of cloth-material cover seemed to fit him well, somehow. ‘And I made hot chocolate. Did you know the recipe on the back of the jar said it should have “four heaping teaspoons” of the powder?’

‘So how many did you put in?’

‘Five and a half.’

Dean chuckled. He knew Cas well enough to know he’d probably do something quirky like that.

‘Any good?’ he asked.

‘I tried it but it was too hot so I’m letting it cool,’ Castiel informed him.

‘Let me show you a trick,’ Dean decided at once, heading over to the fridge. Castiel watched him take out something that had been put away, then get something out of the junk cupboard, and head back over to where Cas was. He sat down next to Cas and leaned towards the coffee table. ‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course I trust you,’ Castiel frowned at him. ‘You know I trust you.’

‘Then,’ Dean announced boldly, squirting some whipped cream onto the top of the hot chocolate and putting a marshmallow on top of the cream, ‘try that.’

Castiel gave him a cautious look and gently picked up the now-heaping mug. He took a sip from it, the cool cream and the still very hot hot chocolate a great contrast of textures and then flavors as he gently lowered the mug back onto the table, onto a coaster Dean noted, which they’d bought that day.

‘It’s good,’ Castiel told him. ‘It’s very good. What’s the marshmallow for?’

‘It’ll fall into the drink once the whipped cream melts down and it melts and goes all squishy and it’s awesome,’ Dean explained. ‘Oh, and you’re gonna wanna get a paper towel or something, because you just grew a white moustache. Or you could just lick it.’

Castiel slowly licked his upper lip and then wiped it off with his hand. Dean nodded approvingly.

‘Well, there you go. Now I’m gonna go call Sam, I forgot when I was out.’

‘Did you get lost?’ Castiel asked, possibly joking.

‘In thought,’ Dean told him, trying to make it seem mysterious while trying not to go back to thinking what he’d been thinking about. ‘All good things, I promise.’

‘Good to know,’ Castiel replied amusedly.

‘Won’t be long,’ Dean promised, veering for the balcony, because he really liked the outside and it was the warmest November he’d ever experienced, though truthfully it was cool for LA’s usual blazing heat.

A single turn unlocked the door and he opened it just as fast, shutting it behind him. He pulled his phone out and headed over to the hanging chair he’d sat in last night and went into his recent calls, hitting Sam’s name and pressed the phone to his ear. He waited – 

‘Hey,’ Sam answered when he picked up.

‘Hey, Sammy,’ Dean responded, a tight lipped smile coming onto his face at the sound of his brother’s voice. Asshole with a terrible sense of humor he may have been, but they were still brothers. ‘Just calling to check in and update. How’s the dick in the dungeon?’

‘Quiet,’ Sam answered. ‘Almost a little too quiet when he’s not singing annoying folk songs on repeat, but he’s not causing any trouble.’

‘And Kevin?’

‘Better,’ Sam admitted. ‘He’s started sleeping more so he doesn’t look so tired all the time. That tablet thing really took a lot outta him.’

‘Well, not much else he can do on that front for now,’ Dean muttered, still pretty pissed about that. Not at Kevin of course, just pissed in general. ‘And you? You doing okay?’

There was a slight pause in which Sam probably frowned.

‘I’m fine,’ he said deliberately, when he replied. Probably suspicious about why Dean sounded so concerned. ‘Why?’

Oh, y’know, there’s an angel up your ass with a hammer and some nails trying to set things right in there.

‘No reason,’ Dean replied, with in indifferent shrug that Sam couldn’t see. ‘Just wondering. So, we’re all set up here.’

‘Completely?’

‘As far as I can tell. We’ve got everything we need I _think_.’

‘What have you two been up to?’

‘Not much,’ Dean lied. ‘He’s been hanging out on the couch watching TV. I’ve been staying in the bedroom for most of the time when we’re not out. I’ve got my laptop, some magazines, a book. We keep to ourselves. It’s a pretty … weird situation to ask of a guy you’ve only hunted with a few times.’

‘I bet,’ Sam replied, a note of something in his voice that Dean couldn’t place. ‘You find out anything about the building yet?’

‘Oh yeah, I found out everything on record,’ Dean told him, sounding annoyed about it. ‘No deaths, no nothing. Two years ago this place was half parking lot and half green area with a fountain, and nothing there either. No crashes, no one drowned in the fountain, so this thing is probably here for some other reason.’

‘Could be a relative of someone,’ Sam suggested. ‘Who came because of an object and stayed to … well, y’know.’

‘Be a dick,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Yeah, maybe. We’re just gonna have to wait this one out and trap the thing to get a better look and see if we can get anything from that.’

‘Trap it how?’

‘Salt circle?’ Dean asked. ‘Glue it down and trick the ghost into it? Remember that one time, we were just kids, dad had to do that.’

‘No, Dean, he didn’t glue it down,’ Sam corrected, ‘he bought a hula hoop and filled it with salt and tied it to the floor.’

‘Oh, right,’ Dean recalled. ‘It was us that glued down the salt … four years ago, wasn’t it? Easy in-and-out case somewhere in Maine?’

‘Yeah, I think so,’ Sam confirmed. ‘It was an old lady’s dead husband or something trying to tell her that he left his will in the wall.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean remembered, wishing more cases were as simple and didn’t cause their almost-deaths every time. ‘So we’re gonna do it like that.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Sam approved. ‘You might be there a while, though. You gonna be okay?’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Dean promised. ‘It’s nice here. I’ll send you some pictures. And it’s good to be away from you for a while.’

‘Dick,’ Sam muttered, though he sounded like he was laughing. ‘I feel sorry for that poor guy living with you.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean half agreed, suddenly wondering if Cas was going to get bored of him at some point. And then he remembered something suddenly on another note, which made him go on saying, ‘oh, and one weird thing.’

‘What?’

‘There was someone knocking on our wall in the middle of the night last night and we heard her speak. It was like a young woman or something. We assumed it was our next door neighbor, but today we found out our next door neighbor is this huge, giant, masculine looking guy. Sounds nothing like a woman and says there’s no one else living with him.’

There was a pause on the line. Dean could only tell Sam was still there by his breathing and his low, contemplative ‘hmmm …’

‘He could be lying,’ Sam offered.

‘No, Ca–’ Dean stopped, clearing his throat. ‘Can’t be. He’s not showing any of the signs.’

‘Still, he could be,’ Sam insisted.

‘Maybe,’ Dean allowed, though he doubted it. Cas had seemed pretty certain. ‘We’ll be on the lookout for anything else weird like that.’

‘Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.’

Dean paused, searching for anything more to say, but came up dry.

‘Listen, I’m gonna go so I can send you pictures and make you jealous.’

‘Okay,’ Sam laughed. ‘Call me if anything happens.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean nodded, ‘you too. Later.’

‘Bye.’

Dean hung up. He sighed a moment, thinking of the mess that awaiting him back at the bunker too, thinking of what Cas would say when he found out what the tablet said, but not wanting to imagine the disappointment in his eyes. So instead he pushed it away and snapped his view from both sides of the balcony, then he went in and did the kitchen and then the bedroom and finally, the ping pong table with some of the mirror, avoiding the couch because that’s where Cas was still sitting.

‘Well?’ Dean greeted when he was done, noting Cas’s empty mug as he sat down next to him.

‘It was, as you would say, _awesome_ ,’ Castiel replied, looking truly blown away by a simple drink. ‘I applaud humanity on the things it’s managed to come up with. Chocolate comes from a simple cocoa bean, and suddenly … this …’

Dean laughed, patting him on the shoulder feeling a deep satisfaction in the fact that he’d used Dean’s favorite adjective.

‘Yeah, well, we’re not all just … apes in clothes.’

‘I never thought any of you were.’

‘I know, I know, I’m kidding.’

‘So how is Sam?’

‘He’s good,’ Dean said truthfully. ‘And Kevin’s … well, he’s Kevin,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I almost slipped up out there and told Sam you don’t think the guy next door could be lying about being alone, but I turned “Cas” into “can’t.”’

‘Nice save.’

‘Thank you. So, any decisions?’ he asked with a sweep of his hand towards the now-scattered menus.

‘I want taco fries,’ Castiel decided, ‘from here.’ He tapped a menu. ‘They have pictures that look good.’

The menu was from a regular good old American place with burgers and fries and kebabs and all kinds of stuff like that.

‘Then taco fries it is,’ Dean approved, picking up the menu. ‘I’m gonna have the bacon cheese burger and a medium garlic, cheese, bacon fries.’

‘That’s a lot of bacon.’

‘And there’s more in the fridge to be fried up for breakfast.’

‘I know, I’m the one who put it there, remember?’ Castiel asked, eyebrows raised.

‘Okay,’ Dean nodded, ‘fair point. So, do you want to order now or later?’

‘We had a late breakfast … slash … lunch,’ Castiel recalled. ‘It’s only been three hours. Maybe later.’

‘Here’s an idea,’ Dean speculated, getting to his feet again and heading towards the table, ‘we snack now while watching the first movie of the night to keep us satisfied, then order out when it’s over.’

‘I like that idea,’ Castiel grinned, looking delighted at the thought of the muffins Dean was bringing over from the table.

‘Or you like food?’ Dean teased.

‘That too.’

‘Can’t blame you,’ Dean laughed, ‘you’ve missed out on so much it’s only natural you want to eat everything.’

‘I don’t want to eat _everything_ ,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘Just whatever looks good and tastes good. It’s a welcome change from rationing food to avoid spending my pay that I could be spending on other needs.’

‘No more rationing for you,’ Dean frowned, promising him. ‘Ever. When you leave here, you leave with money. I told you that.’

‘You said you’d bring me money every week,’ Castiel confirmed his memory.

‘Exactly,’ Dean nodded. ‘When we get outta here you may not have a big fancy TV or a kitchen stocked with kitchen stuff, but you’ll have everything you need until you’re back on your feet and you have your mojo back.’

He put the basket on the table and the two reached for it. Dean got a blueberry, Cas got a chocolate chip.

‘I doubt that will happen,’ Castiel muttered, shaking his head and looking down at his muffin. ‘My grace is gone, Dean. It’s not coming back.’

‘We’re going to _get it_ back,’ Dean insisted, grabbing Cas’s shoulder, making Cas look at him, his determination and his certainty (or at least what he hoped looked like certainty because he wasn’t exactly certain) boring into him. He just knew he was going to try. ‘Look. Human or angel, it doesn’t matter much to me, but I can tell this isn’t what you want to be.’

‘Well, it’s not what I _don’t_ want to be,’ Castiel corrected. ‘I’m adapting. I could make a life as a human, be better at it than I was at being an angel. But I do miss my powers sometimes. Like earlier, I got a paper cut.’

‘Oh shit, those things can be nasty,’ Dean muttered. ‘I’d want powers if I got one of those,’ he joked.

‘I think anyone would,’ Castiel agreed, quirking his eyebrows upwards, aware that Dean’s hand was still on his shoulder. ‘But Dean, I don’t know how we could even go about getting my grace back or if Metatron even still has it.’

‘Oh, he has it,’ Dean told him. ‘I can’t see him giving up anything that valuable. You told me last week how much he seemed to need _your_ grace in particular.’

‘Not in _particular_ ,’ Castiel mumbled, shaking his head, remembering the conversation they’d had over pizza, where he’d told Dean everything that had gone on that he hadn’t gotten to tell him before.

‘But he chose you,’ Dean insisted. ‘So, since you’re so important, that means he still has it. And we’re going to get it back, no matter how long it takes.’

‘I think we should concentrate on getting the angels back into heaven first,’ Castiel replied, ‘though I do appreciate that.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, ‘we’ll see.’

He was reminded again of the fact that Crowley had translated the tablet which said there was no way back … but Metatron was key. Metatron probably knew something, and he had Cas’s grace too … if they could capture Metatron, then they’d be taking a step in the right direction.

‘But thank you,’ Castiel added. ‘It means a lot that you seem to care so much.’

‘Well, I do,’ Dean shrugged, his hand tightening on Cas’s shoulder. ‘You’ve done a lot for me. I need to do something for you.’

‘You’ve done enough for me,’ Castiel said quietly, gazing into Dean’s eyes with open honesty. ‘You made me a better person. You’re the reason I could break free of heaven and everything that came with it. You’re why I’m here. You’re why I just had the best drink I’ve had in my entire existence.’

‘Little things,’ Dean brushed off. ‘I do what I can. But you deserve as much as I can give you and more.’

‘You think?’

‘Yes,’ Dean answered certainly. ‘Besides, remember that whole thing with April a few weeks ago when I told you to “never do that again,” “that” being dying?’

‘I recall,’ Castiel replied, somewhat sarcastically, because there was no way in hell he could forget something like that.

‘Well how are you going to _not die_ without your powers? Humans, they can die by slipping in the shower. But angels are tough. And _you’re_ tough, powers or not, but you should have those back just as a precaution.’

Dean’s hand slid from Cas’s shoulder to his upper arm. Castiel gazed at him observantly, taking in Dean’s entire face, the sincerity of it, the sheer determination underlying in that sincerity, and the side of his own lips quirked upwards, just a fraction, barely noticeable. He licked his lips.

Cas felt Dean’s hand move upwards again, felt Dean shifting his position, like he was trying to get closer –

Dean’s phone beeped and he dropped his hand, pulling back, using his non-muffin-holding hand to pull it out of his pocket. It was Sam.

_Where are my damn pictures?_

‘What does he mean?’ Castiel asked, frowning at the message he saw.

‘I promised him pictures of the place,’ Dean explained. ‘I took a few – how about you send them and I’ll make us some more of that hot chocolate, then we can start the movie?’

‘Okay,’ Castiel nodded, accepting Dean’s phone it was handed to him.

Dean got up, put his muffin on the table, grabbed Cas’s empty mug and heaved a sigh as he headed towards the kitchen. Castiel wondered what he was sighing about.

There weren’t many pictures, but Cas sent each one to Sam one at a time and put Dean’s phone down next to him, watching Dean boil some water in the kitchen. He wondered if Dean had been going to say anything else. It looked … no, it _felt_ like they weren’t finished.

Dean’s phone buzzed.

‘Sam says “lucky bastard,”’ Castiel informed Dean.

‘Send him a smiley face,’ Dean replied. ‘Like a typed out one, not one of those emoticon things. I use it to piss him off.’

‘Done,’ Castiel replied, when he had it sent.

‘Thanks, man.’

‘No problem. I like texting.’

They were silent as Dean continued with the hot chocolate. Castiel picked at his muffin, picking out a chocolate chip and eating it on its own. It was a good chocolate, different to any chocolate bar Cas had ever had. He picked out another one, which he sucked on, letting it melt on his tongue before he swallowed.

‘Here we go,’ Dean grinned at him, putting down two mugs onto the coffee table, one on Cas’s coaster, the other just on the table until he put down the coaster he’d brought over from the open box of them. He put his mug on his coaster and grabbed the remote to turn on the television.

Castiel watched Dean take out the next movie and put it on. The DVDs were in a pile on the floor, next to the fireplace, and he’d just picked up the one on top. And then Dean took his seat again as Cas picked up his hot chocolate, sipping it as the whipped cream tickled underneath his nose. Curiously, he used his muffin to wipe away that cream, licked away the crumbs and then bit the muffin that had cream extract on it.

‘Any good?’ Dean asked.

‘Very good,’ Castiel nodded, swallowing thickly.

Dean dipped his own muffin directly into the top of the cream in his mug and tasted it, nodding approvingly.

‘I wonder what it’d taste like dipped right into the hot chocolate itself?’ he asked.

‘There’s only one way to find out,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Wait until the cream is gone so we can try it.’

‘I like your way of thinking,’ Dean grinned at him, looking mischievous, followed by taking a sip.

They fell into silence as the movie began, an interesting thing called Looper about time travel which was just under two hours long, finishing a little after six. By the time it ended all of the muffins were gone and there were crumbs in the bottom of two long empty mugs after some dipping. Castiel took the mugs over to the sink where last night’s glasses were, sticky and needing to be washed still, while Dean called for takeout and gave their orders.

They started the next movie while they waited. It was an animation, probably more for younger audiences, but it was about a funny villainous video game character and had a fairly decent storyline. It was called Wreck-It Ralph. Dean mentioned having heard of it but he’d never gotten around to seeing it despite initially being curious.

The food arrived not long after the movie started, and once the food arrived they paused the movie to set up a similar situation to last night. Junk on the table with their takeout, the rest of the coke and the Pepsi and the last five beers from the pack too. Dean shut the curtains as it was already getting dark, got the fire on again and Cas hit the lights.

Movie night part two was commencing.

Next they watched Dark Shadows. Castiel related to parts of it quite a lot; specifically how Barnabas Collins woke up in a world completely different to his own. That was like when Cas first came to Earth, interacting and not just watching, dealing with people and living some type of life. Or now, going from being an angel to being human. Or even going from a world where he had nothing, to a world where Dean traded him a forkful of his fries and a bite of his burger for two forkfuls of Cas’s taco fries, as they sat side by side on the couch watching movies by firelight.

Dark Shadows took them past ten, but there was only one movie left, that chick flick with the actress Dean liked, so they watched The Vow, something thankfully neither one could relate to … sort of. The memory loss part struck a chord with Cas too, and he remembered losing his memories once, and then getting them back only to find they weren’t pleasant. The only thing that was good about them was Dean … and somehow, even without his memories, he knew Dean.

He watched Dean, now, rather than the movie. Dean with a spoon in his mouth, finishing the last of the mint ice cream that hadn’t gotten eaten yesterday, eyes glued to the screen. Dean wanted to do so much for him, but he didn’t deserve any of it. There were things he had done that warranted no good deeds in his favor, and Dean _knew_ about the things he’d done … yet still, he offered everything he could, insisting he deserved things that personally he thought he didn’t.

By the time the movie was over, they’d polished off the last of the beers and the Pepsi and the coke and most of the other junk food, but there was still enough to be put away into the cupboards for snacking on in the future. Dean went off to get ready for bed first, leaving Cas to put the leftovers away, toss out their takeout containers and turn off the fire. He was some of the way through pulling out Dean’s bed when Dean returned.

‘Thanks,’ Dean said, dragging his blanket and pillows behind him. He had slippers on, which he’d bought today. Cas had slippers too, in the closet, he’d put them away when Dean went out for menus.

‘You’re welcome,’ Cas replied, looking over as he approached and heading towards him, to pass by him and slip into the bedroom for the night.

‘Wait,’ Dean urged, putting his hand out and grabbing Cas’s shoulder as he attempted to pass. ‘Come here, sit with me a sec.’

‘Dean, it’s midnight,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘It’ll only take a second.’

Castiel took a step back, out of Dean’s grasp and followed Dean over to the unmade sofa bed, bed stuff abandoned on the floor. Dean sat on the edge, gesturing for Cas to sit next to him, which he did.

‘So,’ Dean started.

‘So?’

‘Tomorrow,’ he stated. ‘What are we supposed to do?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We haven’t got anything we _have_ to do.’

‘We need to return the movies,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘Okay,’ Dean nodded. ‘Good point. I’m just … I want to … make it so like we’re not just bored. Sitting around doing nothing all day.’

‘I’m sure we won’t be,’ Castiel frowned. ‘There’s a television and a ping pong table and I have books, and you have your laptop. And we still haven’t read the newsletter from this morning.’

‘It doesn’t bother you that we’ll be stuck inside all day?’ Dean asked him.

‘Not unless it bothers you,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You don’t _have_ to stay inside all day. You could go out and do something. I’d be fine alone.’

‘I don’t know if there’s much to do,’ Dean admitted. ‘And I don’t want to seem like I’m bored of you. Look, I don’t mind being stuck inside either, we’ll figure something out – I just wanted to make sure you’re cool with it.’

‘Of course. In fact, being indoors without working or having some other thing that needs doing urgently will be a welcome change. Oh, and of course, we’ll have to return Dalia’s basket.’

‘Right,’ Dean nodded. ‘You should do that. She seems to like you.’

‘Really?’

‘Oh, yeah. I think you’ve made a new friend. I don’t blame her.’

Castiel raised his eyebrows, surveying Dean next to him. Dean wasn’t looking at him and seemed for a moment like he was staring off into space, until he sighed and blinked a few times.

‘Anyway,’ Dean said, clearing his throat, ‘go on, it’s late. Sorry for keeping you up.’

‘It’s fine,’ Castiel assured him getting to his feet. He got half way across the floor and picked up Dean’s abandoned bed stuff and brought it over to him. ‘Here.’

‘Thanks.’ Dean offered him a tired smile as he began to walk away. ‘Night, Cas.’

‘Goodnight,’ Castiel replied the smile, like every smile Dean had offered him of late, returned.

Castiel headed towards the bedroom, hearing Dean start to make up his bed as he left. Dean, so considerate, considerate enough to actually sit Cas down as ask him if he was okay with the simplest little thing. Though he did wonder how they would occupy themselves. Cas would be happy spending a lot of time reading he was sure, inside, on the balcony … maybe he’d visit that garden out back Harri had mentioned on the tour and see if he could read there. He’d like to go outside, even just to walk around, to see the city around him. To gain some human experience with being out somewhere he wasn’t homeless and helpless, either alone, or with Dean, whatever.

There were other human experiences he’d want to look into, too. Maybe on the internet. His phone had been plugged in for the past few hours with a new charger and this morning Dean had offered him use of his computer … he hadn’t wanted to take him up on that offer then and there as the things he wanted to look up he’d rather do in private, when Dean wouldn’t be around to ask him what he was up to.

Maybe now, late at night, or in the morning when he woke before he let Dean know he was awake.

He stopped at his bedroom door and turned, heading back towards the main room. Dean, who was positioning his pillows, noticed him.

‘You okay, Cas?’ he asked, concerned about why Cas had stopped.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed, ‘I was just wondering … if I could borrow your computer. There’s some things I’d like to look up.’

‘Now?’ Dean asked.

‘Not now,’ Castiel denied. ‘It’s late. But in the morning, I’m asking to take it now so I won’t forget and won’t accidentally disturb you if I wake up first.’

‘Go for it,’ Dean urged. ‘Take the charger too. Give it back whenever tomorrow, I don’t have anything I need to use it for right away.’

‘Thank you.’

Dean nodded in acknowledgement of his thanks as Cas crossed the room and got the laptop and charger from the table, where they’d been this morning and been left ever since Dean had finished. He carried the stuff carefully back towards his room, and then stopped again, a random thought crossing his mind.

‘And Dean?’

‘Yeah?’ Dean replied, looking curious, and Castiel was partially surprised he hadn’t annoyed Dean into oblivion by now.

‘Thank you. For earlier. What you said about getting my grace back.’

‘There’s no need to thank me,’ Dean said softly, his features clear yet darkened in the lamp light after he’d turned off the main light and relied on the light from the lamp on the end table. ‘I said it already. You deserve it.’

Castiel smiled, seeing Dean smile in response before he turned away towards his bedroom, wondering why Dean thought he deserved so much, and now somehow due to Dean’s constant insistence on that fact, beginning to feel like maybe he deserved it, too.

If only he could see himself through Dean’s eyes, just for a moment. Then maybe, he thought, he’d feel much better about all of the things that constantly worried him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, just wanna say something. So, Cas is drinking beers in this and has in earlier chapters too, and he's not getting drunk, yet Dean in 9x09 said Cas was drunk after one beer, which always confused me and I thought was ridiculous, so I decided to look into it on google and found this Tumblr post which I agree with, and so that's considered canon in this fic and in my head regarding the episodes that follow. Cas is not drunk in the fic, nor is he drunk in 9x09.
> 
> The post: destielhallow.tumblr.com/post/77895133907/is-cas-actually-drunk-in-9x09-holy-terror


	9. Experimenting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer than usual to write due to the fact that my son was sick (better now) and the day after his recovery was an important anniversary for my brother and his husband, so sorry. 
> 
> And Sam at the end of this chapter is sorry too, reader. If only he'd known what he was ... well, never mind, you'll read.

Dean settled himself against his pillow, on his back, a hand behind his head. He closed his eyes, set for sleep. This bed was more comfortable the second time around, and was more comfortable than he had initially assumed it would be. He wondered if Cas’s bed was comfortable and he hoped it was. He hoped it was comfortable enough for Cas to sit in, curled up in his blanket, reading late into the night if he wanted to, on nights where it wasn’t past midnight when he went to bed. 

He really was worried about tomorrow, though. What they’d do. He assumed Cas would be busy some of the morning whether it was before Dean was awake or after, so that was good for him and Dean was thankful it wouldn’t inconvenience him at all; he didn’t mind spending a while in his sleeping attire after waking up if he didn’t have anything big to do that day. He was glad that the mornings and nights didn’t seem to be hard, so far, although they’d only been through one morning and two nights.

Maybe tomorrow he’d do some laundry. He had a few things that needed washing. Socks and underwear and clothes he’d worn two or three times now. And bringing up salt and a few weapons for just in case, that was another thing. They still had one free under-worktop cupboard. And … he could bring up some of his tapes, from the car, to listen to music. Of course, they didn’t have a stereo, and a lot of those these days didn’t come with slots for tapes …

Aha. He had an iPod, though. He used it back at the bunker to listen through music through headphones in his room, or to block out noises in motels. It had all of his favorite playlists from his tapes. Maybe he could look for one of those speaker things that could connect to it and play the music, so he could listen to it without having to carry around a thing in his pocket with headphones that, when too loud, stopped him from being able to hear things in the background, like if Cas talked to him or something while he was listening.

So now he had an excuse to go out. Cas could come if he wanted to, but if not, that was cool. Dean could bring him back some subway for lunch if he didn’t come, or they could go to subway if he did. Dean had spotted a subway when out today.

Good, this was good. He was figuring out things to do now that he knew Cas was down for whatever. He was becoming less worried about a dull day of nothingness.

But there was always the day after.

And the day after that.

And even the day after that.

The ghost took month long breaks between appearances. Dean had accepted that when they’d come, prepared to be here for that length … but maybe he should do some more research, go back on those websites and dig a little deeper. He’d do it tomorrow, when Cas was done with his laptop. There was no rush – not until he ran out of things to do. It’s not like the ghost was going to show up tonight or tomorrow.

Everything was going to be fine. It’s not like he was trying to get away from being here with Cas, he liked that part, it was just the occupying his time that was so–

 _Bang bang bang_.

Dean sat up straight in bed, looking towards the door. He jumped to his feet automatically when he heard a similarly violent banging a little farther away. It was definitely somewhere outside the door, seemingly moving down the hall.  

‘Dean?’

Dean turned, seeing Cas had emerged behind him.

‘It was out there,’ Dean explained, knowing that Cas was questioning.

‘Should we …?’

‘Probably,’ Dean nodded, heading over to the light switch to switch it on. He looked back at Cas worriedly, then remembered the sofa bed. ‘If anyone sees and asks, we were both sleeping in that.’

‘Got it,’ Castiel nodded, confirming he understood as he joined Dean by the door.

There were some footsteps outside and the sound of another door opening as Dean unlocked and then opened the door.

There was no one there. But on the door, there was a black, gooey handprint.

The same black goo was on the floor, heading down in a line along the hallway. They could see they weren’t alone, every one of the tenants who lived along this hallway was peeking out of their doors cautiously.

‘MY SLIPPERS!’ came a cry from down the hallway, someone evidentially having stepped in the goo.

‘Dean,’ Cas said quietly, leaning close to him so only he would hear, ‘it’s ectoplasm.’

‘Looks like it,’ Dean breathed back. ‘Go get some tissue. I have a kit in the car we can use to analyze that stuff if I can figure out how to work it.’

Castiel nodded and slipped back inside while Dean took another step out into the hallway, avoiding the goo. Everyone who lived on that hallway seemed to look lost, and Dean was lost with them. Maybe if they all went inside, he and Cas could have a go at searching around … damn the inconvenience.

‘Do we call the building manager?’ Dean heard someone down the hall ask. ‘Or the janitorial staff?’

‘The building manager, I reckon,’ said Dave, the bear, their next door neighbor. ‘Looks like someone playing a prank.’

‘I’ll go,’ Dalia volunteered from a few doors down, as Cas appeared at Dean’s side again and slipped him the tissue unnoticed. ‘We’re good friends.’

‘Tell her someone was knocking on our back wall,’ someone encouraged.

Knocking. Dean glanced at Cas, who raised her eyebrows.

‘Yeah, someone was knocking on our wall too,’ Dean added. ‘Not our back wall, the one across from the bedroom.’

‘The hollow wall?’ Dalia asked, stepping out farther, to be able to face Dean from several feet away.

‘That’s hollow?’

‘Oh yes. There’s lots of hollow space on every floor, only in the end apartments, for storage they said, but they never got round to building any of it so it’s just hollow pathways around the entire building and spaces by the end apartments.’

‘That would explain … something,’ Castiel muttered, stepping closer to Dean again so no one else could pick up on what he was saying.

‘Then yeah,’ Dean confirmed, giving Cas a miniscule nod while acting as though he was still addressing only Dalia. ‘Someone was doing that.’

‘But how did they get in the walls?’ Dave asked.

‘There’s a door in the parking structure,’ someone else explained. ‘A long stairway, leads right up into the walls of the building and goes the whole way round. I asked, once. They said the door was locked up but if someone found a way to break in …’

 _Or float through the wall_ , Dean thought.

‘I’ll go,’ Dalia decided. ‘I’ll go now, I’ll tell her. Won’t be long.’

Dalia headed down the hallway, avoiding the goo, and everyone watched her until she was out of sight.

The two unknown voices – a couple presumably, from 4-A – came farther out into the hallway and bent to the floor, examining the stuff on the ground. While Dave wandered over to that couple, Dean bent down and dipped the tissue in the black goo. It looked like ectoplasm, and certainly felt like it. He took the stuff inside and placed it on the kitchen table, while Cas waited for him in the hallway. As Cas waited, Dave made his way over.

‘Was there really knocking on the wall?’ he asked curiously.

‘At four last night,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘It stopped when we banged on the wall.’

‘That’s so weird. Not the best impression to get of this place for your first night here. Or your second,’ he added as an afterthought.

‘I’ve experienced worse,’ Castiel answered truthfully, then untruthfully added, ‘we moved from a bad area. This … is nothing compared to that.’

‘Gun shots, people getting stabbed on street corners,’ Dean listed off imaginary problems with where they’d once lived. ‘The occasional scream.’

‘Any murders, though?’ asked one of the tenants from 4-A. She was a young woman, possibly late twenties or early thirties, with one side of her hair cropped short and the other combed over and long, like a side mullet.

‘A few,’ Dean nodded.

‘There was an alleyway next to the building,’ Castiel invented. ‘A lot of people were killed there.’

‘Cops at the door every night,’ Dean added. ‘Our window overlooked the alley.’

‘It was always a crime scene. We had to walk past that every day.’

‘Started to feel like FBI agents after a while, visiting a crime scene day in and day out,’ Dean joked, sharing a knowing glance with Cas in jest of the impersonating FBI agents that came with the job.

‘Oh boy,’ muttered the other unknown tenant, whose hair was _violently_ blue with messy curls on top that fell across her forehead, and shaved sides. Dean started to gain a new appreciation for the eccentric West Hollywood style. ‘Then this must seem like a treat compared to that.’

‘It’s practically a vacation,’ Dean confirmed.

‘Oh, god,’ they heard a familiar voice, a new arrival groan. ‘This … I’m so, so sorry, all of you.’

They turned to see Harri had arrived, Dalia at her side, Dalia looking disappointed in the state of the ground and Harri looking horrified by it.

‘See anyone around, Harri?’ asked blue hair.

‘No one but Indie Ass in the lobby coming back from a gig, so I doubt it was her,’ Harri muttered, tutting as she walked along the hallway.

Dean resisted the urge to laugh at the name “Indie Ass” and how much it sounded like “in the ass.”

‘We asked Indie if she’d seen anyone,’ Dalia chipped in. ‘But she’d only just arrived when we left Harri’s apartment. Late gig. Broke a heel, so if she had seen anyone she would have been too preoccupied to notice.’

‘We’ll find the culprit,’ Harri promised. ‘We’ll … install cameras if we have to, after all these incidents it’s about time we did. I’ll talk to the board. And I’ll have this mess and all of your doors cleaned up by the time you wake up – I’m sorry for all of this. Please, all of you, go back to bed … except you two, if you don’t mind. And Piper, Dani, you might want to stay up a little longer. I’ll be wanting to talk to you two, too. But first …’

She was talking about Dean and Cas, of course, gesturing the two of them.

The rest of the tenants thanked her and wished her a goodnight, the two now-named from 4-A promising they’d be up, and they disappeared.

‘Dalia told you about the knocking?’ Dean asked.

If there was something in the walls, it was best everyone know for their own safety, which is why he’d asked Dalia to tell Harri in the first place.

‘She did,’ Harri confirmed. ‘We’ll be having the door down in the parking lot checked and relocked if necessary. Do you mind showing me where exactly the knocking was?’

‘Sure, sure,’ Dean nodded.

Dean gestured inside, allowing Harri in first. He followed, glancing back at Cas warily as they did so.

‘No bed yet?’ Harri assumed, noting the sofa bed open.

‘No, we go that,’ Dean told her, ‘we just got a little … occupied out here tonight.’

Fuck. That sounded like they’d started fucking on the couch.

‘Movie night,’ Castiel added.

Thank goodness for Cas.

‘Ah, clever,’ Harri grinned. ‘Prepared for anything, I see. You’ve settled in well.’

‘Well, we worked hard to get everything set up,’ Dean shrugged.

‘The knocking was just there,’ Castiel pointed out, as they approached the stretch of wall.

‘Here?’

‘Right about where you’re touching,’ Dean told her, nodding at where her hand was. ‘It stopped when Cas banged on the wall and then I asked for whoever it was to stop. We assumed it was a neighbor, but if it’s hollow there …’

‘Maybe Dave next door was getting up to something?’ Harri suggested, Dean impressed by how she seemed to know everyone in the building. Then again, that was her job.

‘That’s what we thought,’ Dean told her, ‘but it couldn’t have been. Whoever it was, they apologized. And it sounded female, not like Dave at all.’

‘And whoever it was was whistling, too,’ Castiel added.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean agreed, ‘I forgot that part.’

A whistling, knocking, apologizing ghost. Huh … well, Dean had come across weirder hauntings in his time. And poltergeists usually did some strange things … so, if it was a poltergeist who turned vengeful upon seeing something it didn’t agree with … that seemed about right.

‘We’ll definitely check it out,’ Harri promised. ‘And keep an eye out for a female – though you never do know in this building. I’m sorry your night’s been disturbed.’

‘It’s fine,’ Dean assured her.

‘We were up later last night anyway,’ Castiel furthered. ‘And we’re self-employed so if we sleep late it won’t matter.’

‘Lucky,’ Harri laughed. ‘Tomorrow I’ll be exhausted, but that’s the price I have to pay to keep everyone happy. I’ll leave you to your cozy little set up now.’

‘I’ll walk you out,’ Dean offered.

She bid both of them goodnight at the door, Cas not quite going the whole way to the exit with her and Dean, and then the door was shut and locked and it was just the two of them again, Dean groaning as he went over to his bed and sat down. Castiel, assuming they weren’t done, stayed where he was, lingering by the wall, near the passage which contained the other two doors.

‘So, this thing is getting active,’ Dean put out there, not liking where this was going, worrying for the safety of others in the building.

‘Is there any way we can trap it without it being blatantly obvious?’

‘The only way we could is with salt traps throughout the building. In the walls too or something. I think that’d be a giveaway.’

‘It seems to be targeting us,’ Castiel pointed out, walking farther into the room with his arms folded. ‘It knocked on our wall. It banged on our door first, then targeted the rest of those in our part of the building. So we may be on the right track, if it’s selected us as its next victims.’

‘We may be here for a shorter time than we thought we would if that’s the case,’ Dean agreed with him. Dean noticed his hovering and gestured for him to come closer. ‘But at the same time that means the thing’s speeding up. Not good, if we fail at stopping it. It could move on to someone else pretty quickly, maybe even someone else on our floor.’

‘I don’t want that to happen,’ Castiel groaned, going to stand near where Dean was sitting, not stepping up onto the raised platform until prompted, then sitting next to Dean when gestured for him to do that, too. ‘So far, I like everyone who lives on this hallway. And I really like that woman’s hair.’

‘Side mullet or blue curls?’ Dean asked.

‘Blue curls,’ Castiel replied. ‘Very bright. The majority of humans I’ve encountered seem so dull compared to her, with her expressive hair.’

‘Are you calling me dull?’ Dean challenged, folding his arms and looking at Cas with the most offended look he could muster.

‘Of course not,’ Castiel insisted. ‘That’s not what I meant. What I’m saying is, these people seem nice, good, undeserving of this. And the one with the side mullet was wearing slippers which got ectoplasm all over them, which is unfair enough. They don’t need a ghost adding to their problems.’

‘No, no one needs that,’ Dean agreed. ‘Not them, not anyone else, not this “Indie Ass” person they were talking about. That thing should just come at us. We’ll be ready for it. I’ve got two sacks of salt in the car and I’ll bring up one of them tomorrow when I go to get that kit to test the ectoplasm, just to make sure it’s what it looks like or see how high it rates on the scale.’

‘What scale?’ Castiel asked curiously.

‘Basically the higher it rates, the stronger the thing is,’ Dean told him. ‘Like, the more manifested and dangerous it is. It’s like an EMF reading. If it’s a fifty, there might be something in the corner but it might just be a powerline outside. If it’s a hundred, then there’s something right next to you.’

‘What about an EMF reader?’ Castiel decided suddenly. ‘We could attempt to track a reading.’

‘We could,’ Dean nodded, ‘but it’d have to be at night, so we don’t look suspicious.’

‘And it would have to be soon, before the possible impending cameras are installed.’

‘So … tomorrow night?’ Dean asked.

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Castiel agreed.

‘I’ve got a new EVP reader too,’ Dean told him, ‘that picks up on random words any spiritual entities around us are trying to communicate with. Kinda creepy, could be helpful. Maybe it’ll say something that could link us to an object or a person it’s here because of.’

‘If you think that’ll help, I think we should try,’ Castiel decided, sounding determined, and more like a hunter with each passing breath, which made Dean proud of his progress. Another thing that Dean was glad of, was a certain plan, a plan of action, a step towards getting rid of this thing or at least finding out more about it.

‘We should keep an eye out too,’ Dean muttered, sighing, sounding tired. ‘For anything weird. Vanishing human-like things. Mist. Lights flickering.’

‘Cold spots,’ Castiel added.

‘That too,’ Dean agreed. ‘You know, typical haunting stuff even though this place doesn’t look like your typical haunting spot.’

‘It seems too bright for a haunting,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Too … happy. Everyone I’ve met here seems to be either very perky, very friendly or have very bright hair.’

‘Not to mention the slippers,’ Dean reminded him.

‘The destroyed slippers,’ Castiel pointed out.’

‘Because when mysterious black goo appears outside of your door in the middle of the night, the first thing you wanna do is worry about your slippers,’ Dean joked. ‘Because priorities.’

‘To be fair, they were shaped and modelled after dogs.’

‘Oh, well if _dogs_ are involved,’ Dean fake-gasped, pretending to be horrified. He sighed. ‘Look, there’s nothing else we can do right now. Nothing we can do until tomorrow night. So until then we should just continue as if nothing strange happened.’

‘Alright.’ Castiel sighed at the thought, getting to his feet. ‘In that case I should go back to bed.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean agreed, then remembering his bed he suddenly recalled, ‘and nice save with that whole mentioning the movie thing as a reason for this bed being out.’

‘It’s fine,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I was able to think fast. I could tell that you thought what you said sounded inappropriate so I had to chip in.’

‘Well, thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Now goodnight.’

‘Night.’

Cas headed back towards his bedroom, beginning to feel tired again after feeling so alert in the face of a possible emergency that had started with banging and ended with more progress towards their goal here. He had to admit he was a little disappointed by how quickly things were going in the sense that they’d be here for a shorter time, but he couldn’t be selfish in that way. It was definitely a good thing. The progress would get them out of here faster, getting everyone else out of danger more quickly.

Less danger was better for everyone. 

Dean waited until he heard Cas’s door close to relax and fall back into bed, throwing the covers over himself once again. He fathomed the thought that Harri still probably thought they’d been fucking. Why else would they be staying in the bed in the living room? Why not move to the bedroom when the movies ended, unless they got preoccupied and fell asleep afterwards?

He wondered briefly whether Cas was a top or a bottom, or if he even knew what that meant. He’d be a top, surely. He was this … this _badass_ , commanding, and when he got dominant he got scary, and to imagine him applying the dominance he had when he took charge to a sexual situation …

Despite his tiredness, Dean felt his dick twitch into attention, just once, not enough to alarm him, but enough to make him remember this wasn’t the first time that had happened today. He glanced towards Cas’s bedroom door, swallowing hard.

Or, not hard. Trying not to _get_ hard. But he definitely wasn’t _soft_.

He should not be thinking about Cas like this. But he _was_.

It’s not like … it meant … he had a _thing_ for him. Things constituted feelings, which he most certainly did not have for his friend. An _attraction_ towards, purely circumstantially, purely physical …

No, he couldn’t. He didn’t.

He _did._

Okay, but he could deal with that. It’s not like he wanted Cas to fuck him, or anything. He just … was aroused by … certain thoughts. That he could make go away if he just …

One time. Just one time.

But it was almost one in the morning.

But still, his lube was in his third bag, with his other personal material belongings, and he kept that bag flattened as much as he could flatten it and slid under the sofa. He’d told Cas it just contained a few pictures and a few spare chargers and phones and the money, but it also contained his lube, and some other things that he really didn’t need to have brought, but out of habit he did.

Dean sighed.

He would give in _one time_. He would be was quick and as quiet as he possibly could. He would lock himself in the small bathroom. And then he would forget this incident ever happened.

Just to get it out of his system.

Dean was at the bathroom door by the time he remembered Cas was just across a narrow stretch of floor, behind another closed door, sleeping or not sleeping or whatever he was doing.

 _Very_ quiet. And very quick …

When Dean woke in the morning, it was to silence. It was late morning, light attempting to penetrate through the black curtains. He groaned, stretching as he lay, pushing his hands above his head, arching his back and he collapsed back down feeling better. Then, with another groan, he pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, supposing he’d better get up and get the bed tucked away before Cas got up.

Cas …

He started to have a guilty feeling about his activities last night. Two days. He had lasted two days living with Cas before violating the thought of him. Returning to the scene of the crime to use the bathroom – perfectly innocently, no funny business – almost made him shudder as he thought about what he’d done. He refused to think about the _good_ aspect of it, because then he might do it again, and he couldn’t let that happen.

To try and make up for it, he’d make Cas breakfast. Good breakfast. They’d bought multiple boxes of different cereal, but Dean had also grabbed things to make a decent breakfast if he wanted it. He had bacon and he had eggs, so he made a start at frying those and set up the coffee maker to make a pot. If Cas wasn’t up before the stuff cooled, he could reheat the food and make a fresh pot of coffee no problem.

Castiel emerged when Dean turned off the hob, sliding the frying pan onto the one next to it to avoid burning the food. Dean could barely look at him, but he forced himself to look up and smile in greeting as he crept out, looking as though he were checking if it was safe, still in his night things with his robe hanging loosely off of him, a shirt underneath it this time though.

‘You’re up,’ Castiel stated, confirming Dean’s checking-suspicion. ‘I wasn’t sure.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean confirmed, ‘and I made breakfast. Feel like bacon and eggs? The toast’ll be done in a minute.’

‘Sure,’ Castiel nodded. He didn’t seem to sense that Dean had done what he’d done last night before falling asleep, falling asleep quite easily afterwards actually. ‘I’ve been awake for a while too. I finished with your laptop. I’ll go get it and bring it out.’

‘Breakfast will be on the table when you get back out here,’ Dean promised, Castiel giving him a tight-lipped smile of thanks as he turned to return to his room.

Interaction number one post-sinful-act had gone smoothly.

Not the act in _itself_ was something be ashamed of, hell, Dean did it all the time and didn’t care who knew, it was the thinking about Cas part that made him momentarily wish he’d been born without a dick. Of course, that wish went away seconds later, but still … it was the thought that counted. The thought that showed how sorry he was for doing that to Cas … though Cas had no idea.

 _Behind his back_ , a thought in Dean’s head hissed. _Even worse._

Dean couldn’t figure out what aspect of it all was bothering him so much. Cas would _never know_. It should be forgotten, one moment of weakness.

This would be the last time he thought about Cas while doing that for _sure_ this time. He knew he said that every time he’d done this in the past, but this time he meant it.

Cas came back before Dean even had time to back and pour them some coffee after he put the plates of bacon and eggs on the table.

‘You can leave it on the table,’ Dean told him as he approached. ‘I’m going to use it later. More research on the building site.’

Castiel nodded in understanding and set the laptop down on the table, a good distance between it and the plate Dean gestured, which already had a knife and fork next to it. Cas sat down where Dean had gestured, looking back at Dean as he began to pour coffee.

‘So it’s true,’ he stated. ‘You can cook.’

‘You think I’d lie to you?’ Dean asked, eyebrows raised, then he remembered well … yeah.

‘You have before,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘You lie _frequently._ To everyone.’

‘Yeah, I realized that just after I asked the question,’ Dean mumbled, trying not to think about the various times he’d lied to Cas or to Sam or both, or to other people, or even to himself. ‘But while we’re here I’m doing this thing where I’m trying not to lie to _you_.’

He put their coffee on the table and then headed back over to the toaster, which had just popped and demanded his attention.

‘While here, you’re avoiding lying to me but spending the entire time lying to Sam. Got it.’

‘Hey, I don’t _like_ lying to Sam,’ Dean frowned at him when returning with a plate of several slices or buttered toast, which he placed between them, ‘but I have to. It’s sort of the reason for my survival following the end of this. I’m hoping you don’t _actually_ want me to be _tortured_ completely _ruthlessly_ by Sam for the foreseeable future, do you?’

Castiel paused, frowning, He took a deep breath and took a drink of his coffee, delicately picking up his fork afterwards.

‘How foreseeable?’ he asked.

Dean glared at him. He knew he was joking, he always knew when he was joking, he always appreciated his jokes because they were so new and so rare and so precious except for what the fuck, he just used the word “ _precious_ ” to describe something Cas did and wanted to shoot himself in the face.

Last night had really fucked him up.

‘The rest of my life foreseeable,’ he answered, trying to forget his thoughts.

‘So, not long then.’ Castiel commented, looking at Dean smugly from under his lashes, only for a second as he was cutting some bacon and seemed to be more interested in that.

Dean’s automatic response to someone, to _anyone_ else would be “I hate you” but with Cas, he held his tongue. As far as he could tell Cas didn’t have the highest opinion of himself, so for Dean to say those words to him certainly wouldn’t help him. He might even think they were true, even if Dean made sure to mention he was joking, that he didn’t mean it, that frankly he did the opposite of hating Cas whatever that was.

‘You’re hilarious,’ Dean stated in a dead voice.

‘But in actuality,’ Cas said, switching back to his normal, not sarcastically-joking self, ‘you know I respect your wishes and anything said or done here will never get back to Sam. At least not through me.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, ‘I know.’

Castiel smiled encouragingly, a smile Dean knew he could trust.

‘You really can cook,’ Castiel repeated. ‘You can cook _well_. Thank you for this, Dean.’

Dean grinned lazily across at him, glad to see Cas enjoying something of his creation.

‘Just don’t expect it every day,’ he warned. ‘Today is just … a day we’ll need good breakfast on if we’re going to spend tonight ghost hunting and shit.’

‘That sounds like a good reason for this,’ Castiel replied. ‘But don’t worry. I won’t get used to it. We got several different brands of cereal and I plan on trying all of them.’

‘Good,’ Dean replied with a curt nod, but broke out into a small smile afterwards. ‘Maybe we can make this a Sunday thing.’

‘That sounds like a good weekly tradition to have.’

‘Then it’s settled. We’ll do it.’

Dean wondered if suggesting that he cook breakfast every Sunday was a little _too_ domestic, but it was a good thing to do if a casual conversation ever came up with a neighbor about little rituals in their relationship. Of course, it was also something that could easily be made up in a situation like that, if a situation like that were ever to come up (which Dean honestly doubted) but … damn it, he liked seeing Cas enjoying himself and he liked being the reason for Cas’s enjoyment, and that wasn’t weird because friends like making friends happy, a perfectly normal part of friendship …

As the meal between friends progressed, Dean discovered he was able to think less and less of last night, focusing more on how Cas was _now_. He seemed to be pretty relaxed this morning, his movements easy and fluid without some of the stiffness that was often in his movements. He also seemed to be observant, watching Dean’s movements sometimes, but Cas was often observant, and Dean never minded being the subject of his curious gaze. Though Cas usually stared pretty openly … today, whenever Dean caught him looking, Cas flickered his eyes away.

And then Dean realized he was staring, and looked away too.

Dean had noticed Cas’s slow progression into comfort over the past few days. First there was talking more. Then there was smiling more. And now, there was more free-seeming movement. He wondered what the next step was, or if this was the finishing line.

After breakfast, Dean decided to open the curtains and do the dishes including yesterday’s mugs and the glasses from the day before and of course the spoons they’d used for ice cream and frozen yogurt over the past two days. That gave Cas time to go get dressed and ready for the day, emerging again fully dressed and smelling of deodorant when Dean was drying everything and putting it all away, from the frying pan right down to the last spoon.

‘Reading, huh?’ Dean asked, noticing Cas was holding a book when he came out and trying not to let Cas know that he also noticed his top two buttons of his casual greyish flannel weren’t done up.

‘I thought I’d go outside and see what it’s like out there at this time of day,’ Castiel told him. ‘I was going to bring back Dalia’s basket first thing today, but I don’t know whether she’d be up after last night, so I’ll do it later. She mentioned the bakery is closed on Sundays so she’ll probably be home.’

‘Good idea,’ Dean nodded, watching his movements as he seemed to look sort of just … casual. But more casual casual than Cas casual. There was something different about him and something more different creeping in each day yet he couldn’t pinpoint it. ‘How far are you in the book?’

‘Joffrey is showing his true colors,’ Castiel replied with some distaste. ‘And Arya’s friend is dead.’

‘Yikes,’ Dean flinched, recalling that it was only going to get worse for everyone. ‘Good luck. And enjoy … if you can.’

‘I think I can manage to get some enjoyment out of it,’ Castiel replied, heading towards the doors. As Dean watched his back, he noted how well Cas’s clothes suited him. ‘So long as I don’t get attached to any minor characters. Like Sansa and Arya’s _direwolves._ ’

He said the last word bitterly and Dean suddenly remembered that the book hadn’t been too kind to the animals in it.

‘It’s completely cool if thousands of humans die in books,’ Dean sighed overdramatically, ‘but when they touch the pets it’s just not fair.’

‘Sansa’s wolf was innocent.’

‘I know.’

‘And Arya’s was only trying to protect her.’

‘I know.’

Castiel groaned.

‘It’s going to get worse, isn’t it?’

Any other day Dean would have responded sympathetically, but today, with the little dynamic they had going here, he grinned at him with somewhat evil tendencies and replied, ‘oh yeah.’

Castiel’s eyes rolled upwards in announce as he turned back towards the doors, turned the key and went outside closing the door behind him. Dean grinned at his back, watching him walk over to the edge and look out into the distance, and turned just as Cas turned back to walk towards the seating.

In the bedroom after Dean got dressed, he gathered up his things he was going to throw in a wash and remembered _fuck, we need a laundry basket_. Every single time he went to do _anything_ , there always something creeping up on him that he’d forgotten. He was beginning to think that by the time they’d finally gotten absolutely everything they needed, the case would be over and it’d be time to go. Then again, it was only day three.

He left the stuff he was going to wash in a pile by his shoes in the closet and headed out to the balcony, where Cas looked up at him in greeting with a little smile. Cas didn’t usually greet by smiling and it sent a little jolt of happiness through Dean, compelling him to smile back.

‘I need to go out,’ Dean told him, forgoing a hello. ‘We need a laundry basket. And there’s some other things I need to get. Feel like coming or would you rather stay in?’

‘I’d rather stay in,’ Castiel admitted. ‘I’m reading now and I was thinking about using your laptop again. There’s something I’d like to … double check.’

‘Want me to grab anything while I’m out?’ Dean asked.

‘Do you know how to clean shoes?’ Castiel asked.

‘Laundry detergent and water,’ Dean answered him. ‘Rub them out with a cloth.’

‘Then I need a cloth.’

‘Done. Anything else?’

Cas seemed to consider something, looking away like he was about to get lost in thought. When he looked back up he requested, ‘headphones.’

‘Is that all?’

‘That’s everything,’ Cas verified. Then he hesitated again before speaking. ‘If I’m not here when you get back, it might be because I remembered something else and went out to get it in a nearby store.’

‘Don’t get lost,’ Dean joked, a reprise from yesterday.

‘I’ll try not to. Will you be gone long?’

‘Maybe like an hour?’ Dean assumed, shrugging. ‘I know it hasn’t been long since breakfast, but I was thinking I could pick us up something from subway on the way back. Lunch, y’know.’

‘What’s Subway?’

‘They do like … long sandwiches. Six inch or twelve inch with meat and salads and sauces and stuff.’

‘Then yes,’ Castiel nodded eagerly, ‘get that.’

‘Anything in particular you want on yours?’

‘Whatever you think is best for a first order at that place.’

Dean nodded in understanding, lingering longer than he needed to while looking at Cas, who looked back at him almost the entire time, his eyes flickering downwards away from his once or twice.

‘See you later, then.’

‘Yes. See you.’

Dean went back inside and closed the door behind him, thinking it was weird that he was leaving to do stuff, more stuff than just getting takeout menus, and he was leaving Cas behind and when he got Cas would be there, or not, because maybe Cas had things he wanted to do, then Cas would get back to _him_ being there … it hadn’t seemed so weird after his brief outing yesterday, but today it hit him hard.

They were living _lives_.

And Cas had a life too, his own thing to do. Dean frequently forgot that Cas had a life outside of him, personal things he needed or wanted to do. Cas had managed to make a life for himself after his brief stint at the bunker, albeit a low quality one. Cas _did stuff._ He ought to start giving him more credit for this whole humanity thing, not just being human, surviving human, but _living_ human.

Like, Cas was a fully-fledged _person_ with a _life_ and _likes_ and _dislikes_ and _wants_ and _needs_ and _opinions_ on stuff … he wasn’t just that angel guy who he fought to protect and was in return protected by. He was a real, actual person that Dean was living with, and the sudden realization of that was a little if not a lot astounding.

Castiel continued to read for several minutes after Dean left. When he finished the chapter he was on, he closed the book and placed it on the table, taking a moment to walk to the edge of the balcony again and lean on the railing. He looked down, at everything below, and saw a few people walking around far below him. He looked up, and two stories above him saw the underside of another balcony, but the sky and sun still penetrated where he stood, despite the direct overhead cover.

Taking his book inside, he put it back in his bedroom, with the rest of the set, and walked back out into the main room. He was alone, completely alone, and Dean wouldn’t be back for a while. Unlike the other few times he’d been left here alone, he had no task he needed to complete before he did … anything.

This morning had been good. An education of sorts. A casual little bout of research and video watching. It had been interesting, a little unpleasant at times, decent at others. He didn’t see the huge appeal of pornography if all of it was so … eh. The women were false-looking and appeared to be screaming and the men were unnecessarily rough, and he didn’t get any enjoyment out of it.

Experimenting was good, he doubted he’d have many means to do it once he got off of this case besides actually going out and _doing_ it. It was good to put in at least a little research first.

He’d felt a little weird about looking up this stuff on Dean’s laptop, even weirder than this morning. He didn’t know why it felt so much stranger to type in “gay porn” rather than typing it without the first word this morning.

It was the same website as he’d looked at this morning, but a different selection of videos. All of them just men … with men. He scrolled through them, looking for one that didn’t look too … bleh … and wasn’t too long. He picked one that looked like it was decent quality, and wasn’t too messy seeming or badly made, and clicked play.

This morning he’d had it on silent, but now that he was alone, he was able to have it on at a low volume. He’d asked Dean to buy him headphones, for possibly further experiments, so he could hear as well as see what was happening.

Speaking of “what was happening,” what the _fuck_ was happening here?

It had started, and they weren’t having _sex_ sex yet … but there was a man … with his face … in another man’s ass. Well, that was certainly something new that Cas doubted he’d have learned about by actually going out and doing stuff for himself.

This proved to be less initially off putting and less boring than the male/female stuff. In fact, Cas found himself wanting to know what they were going to do next, leaning with his elbow on the table and his chin in his palm as he watched it playout.

Their faces seemed more natural than what he’d watched this morning. There was no screaming and their faces didn’t _look_ like they were screaming, they looked as though they might be getting some enjoyment out of it, but it still didn’t look completely real.

It was when the guy who’s ass had a face in it started whispering ‘fuck me’ that Cas felt his dick stand to attention, pressing against the fabric of his underwear causing an interesting and not unwelcome sensation. He tried to ignore it, continuing watching what was going on, one man whimpering and the other continuing to press his face into his ass, the camera panning closer and getting in at different angles and Cas saw that the reason the guy’s face was in the mother guy’s ass is because he was using his tongue on it. Cas made a note to google more on that particular action later.

It then cut rather suddenly to the actual _fucking_ part.

The man who had been doing the licking was suddenly pushing into the other guy, and then they were off. This was _definitely_ better than the stuff from this morning. He started feeling the urge from the other morning again, to press down on it, an urge which he gave into and was glad he did. Another minute or two later, and he paused what he was watching.

He needed to do this right, like he had in the shower the other morning. And this time he didn’t have to _take_ a shower, because he was alone, so he could spend as long as he wanted, well … wherever he wanted. But then without the water of the shower … it might not work so well. He needed some kind of lubricant to make things go better, because rubbing … _sensitive_ areas dry didn’t sound so pleasing.

So, he was going to have to go out after all. Clearly he wasn’t going to use Dean’s, that would be wrong on so many levels. So he closed out of the page, assuming he’d be able to find it pretty easily again, and turned off the computer. He figured a few minutes of distraction would calm him down enough to go out, so he walked around a little, trying not to think about what he’d watched, or about his nerves about the fact he was actually going out with the intention of buying lubrication to pleasure himself to homosexual pornography.

Thinking about what he was doing really didn’t help the calming himself down thing. Or thinking about the fact that he _wanted_ to do it, that didn’t help either.

He tried to think of his cover. If Dean asked him if he’d gone out, he didn’t want to lie, nor did he want to buy _just_ that either. He assumed the grocery store would have it, or a drug store. He’d try the grocery store first, since it seemed like a good one and yesterday it had looked like it sold a lot of stuff one may need in any situation. And while he was there he could buy … something else. Like … a bag of pork rinds. They were out of those, he could tell Dean he’d wanted some … good cover.

Thinking about pork rinds and the task of purchasing them had gotten him calmed down, so he went into the bedroom to grab his wallet with the leftover money from the other day in it, his phone and his key to the apartment, putting them all in the pocket of his jacket which he pulled out of the closet, and then he headed out to face the streets of West Hollywood alone.

It was different here to all of the other places he’d travelled, things were more lively, the people almost happier seeming, louder, brighter, buildings and people and vehicles alike. And the crosswalk, that was the brightest of them all. He almost felt like a dark spot in this city of light when he thought about the lives of these people compared to his own.

His mission went successfully. When he returned to the apartment he left the bag of pork rinds on the table, opened them and took one just to look like he’d actually been eating them, and then he tore up the receipt and put that and the bag in the trash.

He took the lubrication into the bedroom in one hand, with the laptop in the other, and closed the door behind him. There was a lock on the door and he considered locking it, but then there was the curtains he’d have to close in case Dean got back and decided to go out onto the balcony, and he didn’t want to seem suspicious. Besides, there would be an _end result_ to this or so he presumed, that he’d want contained. In referral to the guy from the Gas ’n’ Slip, Dean had mentioned using a tissue. That seemed like an idea. Or perhaps his shower towel. Dean had mentioned a laundry basket, which meant laundry, which meant it would get washed … and if he folded it right, hiding the evidence, Dean wouldn’t notice when putting it in the machine.

This whole thing seemed to take a lot of planning, he thought, as he entered the bathroom and put the laptop and the lube on the closed toilet seat, trying to figure out his situation here. Maybe it would get easier with time, once he’d gotten used to doing this. Though that implied that there would be future occurrences of this … not that that was a bad thing, it was a human thing after all, a lot of people did it and there was nothing wrong with it. He shouldn’t feel guilty about it, and he didn’t. The guilt factor came into it only when recalling that he shared this bathroom with Dean, and this living space.

But Dean would never know.

He figured out his setup and sat down on the closed toilet lid to get back onto the site, the same video as before. As it started, he carefully balanced the laptop on the edge of the bathtub. He reached over and grabbed his towel, exactly where he’d left it, and laid it out on the floor in front of him. He undid he jeans and slid them down along with his underwear, but figured he’d better just take them off completely, remembering that it wasn’t the easiest to control exactly where the spray went in the end. He kicked off his shoes too, and his socks because it was weird to wear socks but nothing else on his lower half, and he sat down on the toilet seat, cold against his bare skin.

He focused on what was playing on the monitor in front of him, rolling up his sleeves. He watched the things play out, familiar now, trying to actually _imagine_ himself doing that. It seemed disgusting at first thought, considering that area and what it was generally used for … but if it was clean, and if there was no pesky hair there, and he knew for a fact the person had showered that day … and it was someone he liked, like _really_ liked, who he found _really_ attractive …

Some images flashed through his mind, and he could see it, and he felt it, and he reached for the lube.

Research followed the activity and the cleanup. For researching, he moved to the bedroom, and looked up all kinds of things. Like protection, which he’d learned in his recent life did _not_ mean his angel blade. And he looked up specifics about the penetration part. How to know who puts what in where, doesn’t it hurt, how to make it _not_ hurt by preparation. He looked up the whole liking the asshole fiasco, seeing opinions on that and techniques and other things, then decided he was done, so he returned the laptop to the table and plugged it in because the battery had gotten low, then sat down to think.

So, this morning, he’d looked up stuff with men and women, and nothing. It had seemed … okay. And he’d thought about sex with April, kissing Meg and what she’d implied she wanted from him, but there was no true _desire_ there, to go out and search for more of that in the world once he was free to do so. And then now, with men and men, _that’s_ what had sparked his interest. An interest strong enough to take pleasure from, to try and learn more about, to actually consider experimenting with in the future if he could just figure out … how to do that. Go to a bar or something. It seemed to work for Dean.

Maybe it was just because he’d been with a woman, and now he wanted to be with a man too, to compare the two. Or maybe it was just where his interests lay. It was too overwhelming to think about all that, about what he wanted or what he _was_. To delve into the topic of all that … sexuality and the different ones there were.

Maybe he could ask Dean later. If Dean would be open to that, that was. Dean seemed to be touchy about his own, and Cas wanted to ask how Dean _knew_ his own …

He guessed he could approach the subject, and turn back if things seemed to be going wrong.

He sighed, checking the time. It was approaching one, so, figuring Dalia was up by now, he grabbed the basket her muffins had come in along with the cloth had covered them and headed out, towards her apartment. He hadn’t noticed when he was intent on going to the store, but Harri had kept her word and the hallway and doors were all clean of the black goo, the black goo that was still on a tissue somewhere inside.

He put a smile for Dalia when he knocked the door, as she would most likely have one on when she answered, which it turned out she did. And then she invited him in, and that was that.

When Dean got back, it was to an empty apartment. He looked around for Cas upon entering, calling out for him just to be sure, but he was certain he was alone. Figuring Cas had gone out, he put the laundry basket down on the worktop and unloaded the things he’d gotten from within it; he put Cas’s headphones and his cloth down together and put them to side, then went about putting away the other things he’d gotten. He hadn’t ended up getting anything to plug his iPod into because he couldn’t figure out what the fuck was up with those docking station things and speakers and all sorts of things, but he had managed to find a tape player which he’d been doubting he would, so he’d brought up a few of his favorite tapes too. He put the tape player and the tapes on the ping pong table, which seemed like a good place to keep them until they got around to using the ping pong table. And then he put the small sack of salt he’d brought up in the empty cupboard, all the ghost hunting equipment in with it, to be used later.

On top of everything else, he’d picked up subway, getting his favorite steak and cheese melt, plus the same for Cas, figuring he might like that, both of which had red onions and ranch dressing on them, because that’s what Dean liked and he wanted to impart his impeccable taste in food – super fucking lame pun intended – on Cas.

He noticed an open bag of pork rinds on the kitchen table and he was pretty sure they’d run out of those, which made him note that Cas had been out once already. Huh. Maybe he’d forgotten something and had to go out again. Dean figured he’d be back.

Dean grabbed his sub and the bottle of coke he’d gotten with it as part of a meal deal and headed over to the table, to his laptop, all set to kill time with some research. Maybe there were unexplored parts of that news website he was on yesterday. So when he’d turned on his laptop and opened the browser, the WiFi connecting automatically, he headed into his history to search for the site he’d recognize by name, but couldn’t recall the name of.

He was almost certain he’d opened the wrong person’s history.

So, Cas didn’t know about clearing his history, was the first thing that sprang to mind. The second thing was something along the lines of _holy shit_. Cas had been doing some research of his own which all seemed to stem from a video he’d been watching of–

 _Fucking hell_.

Gay porn. Cas had been watching gay porn. The same video. Twice. Fucking. Hell.

The thought of Cas watching gay porn, or any type of porn at all for that matter, alone … wasn’t something he wanted to think about because it might bring about a relapse of what he’d been up to last night before he went to sleep, alone in the small bathroom, thinking about Cas not watching the porn, but taking part in the acts … fuck …

He swallowed harshly, scrolling farther back, coming across Cas’s earlier searches. He’d watched a few straight videos, too. So … this must have been what Cas meant by experimenting, then. Which he was entitled to do. Good for him.

But he sure as hell had done more research on the gay stuff than on the straight stuff. Not a single search after any of the straight videos.

Interesting.

Dean shifted in his seat.

He most certainly would not let Cas know he’d seen this, that he knew what he’d been looking up. He wouldn’t ask Cas if he’d cleared his history, he wouldn’t ask Cas if he’d opened anything in a private browser, he was just going to forget that he’d ever seen this … and scroll back farther, onto the news website, the one that had the news about the parking lot being made into apartments.

A steady twenty minutes of deeper research followed, and Dean was beginning to give up hope on finding anything. He’d never found a cleaner area, no dark spots on its past, even before it was a parking lot, when it was a full park with benches and palm trees and a fence around it. There wasn’t even any significance to the statue on the fountain that used to be there – two silver figures, dancing together – which is what Dean was looking up when Cas returned, licking the frosting off of a cupcake in one hand, the other hand with a perfectly untouched one in it.

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted him, a little stiffly, recollections of his browser history shooting through his mind against his will.

‘Hi,’ Castiel replied, closing the door behind him. ‘I was just giving Dalia back the basket and she invited me in and gave me coffee and cake. Then she gave us these.’

He held out the untouched cupcake and Dean took it from him, looking at the top. The frosting was white, creamy looking, with a small square of caramel on top. It looked good.

Dean wondered what the hand it had been held in had been doing while the owner of that hand was researching. Then he mentally slapped himself.

‘I’ll thank her next time I see her,’ Dean told him, getting to his feet. He picked the caramel square up with his lips and back into his mouth, chewing it, swallowing before he said, ‘got you subway. My favorite order. Sorry I was a little longer than I said I’d be, I was looking for something.’

Dean gestured his purchase on the coffee table and Cas turned to look at it, licking the frosting as he went, his tongue acting as a scoop for it which Dean tried not to watch, doing the same thing to his own cupcake. It wasn’t overly sweet, it was thick feeling and had a great taste. Vanilla. And good.

‘You can play your tapes indoors now,’ Castiel noted, a hint of a smile coming over his face.

‘Exactly.’

Castiel nodded approvingly.

‘So, subway?’ he asked. Dean grabbed it off the counter and handed it to him, a bottle of Pepsi (which he knew Cas liked) accompanying. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Castiel moved towards the table, where he sat down across from where Dean had been working. Dean, trying to stop staring at him, his casual easy movements, his friendly manor, his frosting-licking tongue, went to return to his post behind his laptop.

‘So, what did you do while I was out?’ he asked Cas, who had put his cupcake down to open the subway bag and investigate.

‘I read for a while,’ Castiel answered truthfully, then the lies crept in. ‘For a long while, actually. I used your computer to look up the correct pronunciation of some names to make sure I was saying them right. Then I went out and got pork rinds. When I got back, I had some, and then went to give Dalia back her basket. She invited me in and we talked for a while.’

He was good at lying. He had a good cover story for what he looked up, Dean noted. Interesting, very interesting.

‘What did you two talk about?’ Dean asked curiously, genuinely interested.

‘About our next book,’ Castiel answered. ‘She asked, so I told her it’s about a haunted apartment building and the chapter we’re currently working on has the characters searching the building late at night for signs of ghost activity.’

‘So you basically told her what we’re doing tonight.’

‘Yes.’

‘Anything else?’

‘She talked about her work for a while,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It was all very … general. She said to tell you “hello” so … hello.’ Then he paused, after taking another bite of his sub and said, ‘this is _very_ good.’

Dean laughed. He noted Cas had seemingly abandoned his now frosting-free cupcake in favor of what Dean had gotten him from subway and felt a jolt of pride in the fact that he’d gotten Cas something he liked.

‘Glad you like it,’ Dean grinned at him.

‘So what did you do?’

‘Bought what you can see,’ Dean shrugged, gesturing the stuff. ‘Your cloth is there, your headphones are there,’ he swallowed, trying not to think about what Cas probably wanted them for, ‘and I brought up the stuff we’ll need tonight, plus a bag of salt. So we’re all set.’

‘And on that?’ Cas asked, gesturing Dean’s still open laptop in front of him.

Dean looked at the screen and sighed, then pressed the button to shut it off and closed the lid.

‘Research,’ he said flatly.

‘And?’

‘Literally nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No hiding meaning in the fountain that used to be here. Still no sign of car accidents. And before part of it was made into a parking lot, it was a park, and no one so much as fell out of a freakin’ palm tree.’

‘So … the ghost is attached to a person, then,’ Castiel replied thickly, Dean amused to see him talking as he ate, chewing actively, his eyes focused solely on his food. ‘Like we thought yesterday.’

‘Seems like it, yeah.’

Castiel sighed. Though his disappointment didn’t seem to last long as he continued to focus on his food, thoroughly amusing Dean. Dean got to his feet with the wrapper from his cupcake, which he’d finished, to toss it in the trash. He looked back at Cas who by now, taking fucking _enormous_ bites, was almost done.

‘So you really like that, huh?’ He watched as Castiel nodded and tried not to break out into a stupidly big smile at his enjoyment. ‘Good. So,’ he decided, grabbing the laundry basket, ‘I’m going to do some laundry. Have you got anything you want me to wash?’

‘My towel,’ said Cas, swallowing. ‘I used it to … uh, wipe something off my shoe that I stepped in while I was out. You shouldn’t unfold it because the stuff I stepped in is on it.’

‘Alright, where is it?’

‘I left it folded carefully on my bed,’ Cas told him. ‘ _Don’t_ unfold it.’

‘You don’t have to tell me twice,’ Dean assured him, shuddering at the thought of what Cas could have stepped in.

 _Or what else he used that towel for_ , an evil menace in the back of Dean’s head hissed.

He pushed that voice away. Nope. Not thinking about that.

Dean left Cas to finish his sub, not that he had much to finish, taking the basket with him. He put Cas’s towel in, careful not to let it unfold. He put his stuff on top, grabbed detergent from the cupboard and went to leave.

‘Wait,’ Cas said quickly, standing up having just finished his food, throwing the wrappers in the trash, including the wrapper from his cupcake which he’d apparently just finished. ‘Before you take the detergent, I need some. I’m going to clean my shoes now.’

Dean stopped, handing the detergent over to him, watching him soak his cloth in water and pour on some detergent, then hand the detergent back. Cas silently nodded that Dean cold go now, jerking his head towards the door. Dean nodded back and headed out, as Cas made his way to the bedroom to get his shoes.

The laundry room was empty when Dean got there, and the machines were big and fancy looking ones. He set everything on a regular cycle and made note of the time so he’d know when to come back – in approximately twenty minutes.

When Dean got back to the apartment, Cas was sitting on the couch, shoes in his lap, cloth rubbing them out. Dean went over to him, taking the seat next to him, now that he didn’t have anything immediate to do. He’d take a break before deciding to check on that ectoplasm to see how high it rated on the scale in strength. He watched Cas a moment, then suddenly he was done.

‘I’m leaving these outside to dry,’ Castiel decided, standing up again.

Dean nodded, watching him do just that, leaving the shoes near the edge of the balcony. When he came in, he rinsed out the cloth, then took that outside to the shoes too, presumably to dry. And then he came back in, heading back over to the couch. He suddenly looked a little … well, less relaxed than he had a moment ago.

‘Can I talk to you about something?’ Cas asked, on route back to the couch to reclaim his seat next to Dean.

‘Of course,’ Dean frowned at him, wondering why he had to ask. ‘What’s on your mind, Cas?’

‘It’s … a topic you generally seem to have difficulty discussing,’ Castiel admitted gingerly. ‘And I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’ 

‘If you do, I’ll stop you,’ Dean assured him. ‘Just go ahead. I’ll steer you away from any dangerous territory.’

Dean watched him carefully. Watched how he took a break, steadied himself, readied himself. He had gone from easygoing to deadly serious in seconds, and Dean could tell this wasn’t a spur of the moment thing, then. He swallowed, hoping it was something he could help with to the best of his abilities.

‘There’s something you told me,’ Castiel began, eventually. ‘Accidentally, yes, but you confirmed it. And we’re been able to mention it a few times, even joke about it once in the sense that you’re not an “outsider” here because of it. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’

Dean felt his blood go cold and his cheeks attempt to grow hot simultaneously. Yeah, he knew what Cas was talking about, and he wondered what this had to do with anything. He was beginning to feel afraid he wouldn’t be able to answer Cas’s question, now, because he found this whole topic so hard to talk about. It wasn’t that he hadn’t accepted it about himself, because he had, but he’d also accepted that it was something he didn’t talk about out loud. It was something he was, it backed up things he did, it only became relevant when he did those things, and besides that it was none of anybody’s business unless he decided to share it with that somebody.

And Cas was someone he’d decided to share it will, albeit accidentally as Cas had said, but he could have banned all further mention of the incident. But he didn’t, because he wanted to be as open with Cas as it was possible to be, and he knew Cas, and Cas was the only person who just … genuinely didn’t care. Not in a bad way, but in a good way, like it didn’t influence a single one of Cas’s thoughts when it came to their interactions or activities, where with other people, it would linger on their minds in some form. He knew it was almost always on his own in certain situations.

It was hard to get used to talking about it, but if there was something Cas needed to ask, something that seemed to be important, then … he’d better get used to it, get open and get the stick out of his ass, because goodness only knew he didn’t need it there after the amount of _dick_ that had been there.

That was something he could easily think about. His past experiences with men. It was a thing he did, having sex with men.

It was the word _bisexual_ he had trouble with. Not in his own head, but verbalizing it. But he had to say it, so he took a deep breath and tried to appear normal.

‘That I’m bisexual,’ Dean said carefully, already on edge. ‘Yeah. What about it?’

Dean could tell Cas was treading carefully, tiptoeing around the cracks. He appreciated that, and tried to make his expression look welcoming of all questions.

‘How do you … I mean, how did you realize … that …’

 _Oh_.

So, that was probably part of the “experimenting” thing, as Dean remembered him calling it, too. And the porn today … Cas was getting into _that_ territory, trying to figure out things about _himself_. And now he was coming to Dean for advice … guidance, almost … well damn, this was something he was glad to do. He would always do whatever he could to help Cas in any way possible, and it was only natural Cas thought about these things, for just in case they didn’t manage to get him his grace back, if he wanted to make a life for himself, a human life, with _someone_ …

Or even if he wanted that, even if they did get his grace back …

‘It’s all about attraction,’ Dean told him, cutting off his awkward sentence structure. ‘It’s like … who you’re attracted to. Who you want to … y’know, have sex with.’

‘And … how am I supposed to know that?’

‘You have to think about it, I guess,’ Dean shrugged. ‘And figure it out. Like if you were out, right now, looking for a hookup, and a man came up to you on one side and a woman on the other … who would you pick?’

‘That depends,’ Castiel answered.

‘On what?’

‘Whether they’re nice or not,’ Castiel said. ‘If one is a nice person and the other isn’t, I’m going to pick the one who’s nice.’

‘But we’re not basing this on who’s nicest here,’ Dean explained. ‘It’s like … who’s hottest.’

‘You know, I didn’t have sex with April because she was _hot_ ,’ Castiel replied curtly. ‘Not that she wasn’t. She was very pretty, and attractive in many ways, but that’s not the defining factor. She was nice to me, and then _she_ made the first move. And I went along with it.’

‘Because she was nice.’

‘Yes.’

‘And if she hadn’t made a move, would _you_ have?’

Castiel didn’t have to think long about it before answering, ‘no.’

‘And why not?’ Dean asked bluntly.

‘Because …’ Castiel had begun his answer before he’d found one, but with a sigh, he continued as it came to him, ‘that’s not what I was compelled to do.’

Dean could see Cas didn’t seem to like thinking about it, but he was just trying to help him. He went farther back, to one of the weirdest things he’d ever seen, and asked about it.

‘What about that one time you kissed Meg? Were you compelled then?’

‘Not particularly,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I was more … curious. And I was tired of the way she kept looking at me like that so I had to _do_ something about it.’

‘So neither time you actually wanted to go up to either of these woman and just … basically, fuck them for the hell of it.’

Castiel frowned at him.

‘No. I told you that before, the night we talked after … that whole thing. Last week. But when the word “attraction” comes into it, that’s the part where I get … frustrated.’

‘Do you know why?’

‘Because,’ Castiel sighed, leaning back against the couch cushions and turning his head away from Dean, ‘women are attractive. It’s just … a fact. The way their bodies are built, their faces, their hair whether long or short, they’re attractive beings, most of them. Unless they’re … not-so-attractive.’

‘So you’re saying there’s pretty women and there’s ones you don’t find so pretty.’

‘Yes.’

‘Understandable,’ Dean nodded. ‘But that just means you have eyes. You can see what’s attractive in your own opinion. The question is … are you attracted _to_ what you can see is attractive?’

‘Attracted to as in … do I want to go up to them and “fuck them for the hell of it?”’

‘Yeah.’

Castiel sighed deeply, and thought.

His head was full of women, pretty, pretty women, here and there and everywhere. Smiling. Waving. Inviting in countless scenarios. Women he’d seen on the street, women he’d met, women he hadn’t met, women he’d seen in movies and on TV. The women in the few videos he’d watched this morning, with those men. He couldn’t find the desire to picture himself _as_ one of those men, with any woman.

‘I don’t think so,’ Castiel admitted. He sighed, yet again, turning his head to face Dean who was surveying him with a soft look on his face, a look of patience, a look of understanding.

‘And that, my friend, is where you and I differ,’ Dean told him, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘Now the question is …’ admittedly, this was a little harder for him, since it was hard for him to talk about it in relation to himself, and he dropped his hand, ‘… what’s your stance on men?’

‘Well, clearly, you know I can tell men are attractive,’ Castiel started off. ‘Owing to the fact that I did in fact compliment both you and Sam on your physical appearances on the drive here.’

Dean chuckled, remembering that. He liked the fact that Cas had complimented him. It definitely gave his never-wavering self-esteem a boost, as if it needed it. The mirror was his best friend, he didn’t need anyone else telling him how attractive he was … yet, he still liked it.

‘Then you have to apply the thing of being attracted to women to men,’ Dean said carefully, trying to avoid using the term, “do you want to fuck men?”

Cas thought about this, too. The men he’d seen. There were those incredibly attractive ones and incredibly unattractive ones out there, the same situation as with women. And he may have watched more videos of men and women, and only one with two men … he remembered the one man whimpering “fuck me” and found that he wouldn’t mind being the one that the whimpering man was talking to. He remembered watching the two of them, feeling his own pleasure as that unravelled before his eyes, feeling the urge to watch it again. And again. To search for more.

He got it now. He understood.

‘With men it’s different,’ he said, leaning forward now so his shoulders slouched and he looked away from Dean. ‘I can see myself … doing … that. In the future.’

He could see himself doing it, he just didn’t know how the hell he’d end up in that situation.

‘Then we have that in common,’ Dean replied, looking at him but not having him look back.

Dean wished, like he often did, that he could tell what Cas was thinking.

‘So that would mean,’ Castiel mused, frowning ahead of him in thought and concentration and what looked like some curiosity, ‘that I’m gay.’

Hearing Cas say those words made Dean feel immensely proud of him, for figuring that out, for not being afraid to blatantly state the words as soon as he realized them.

‘I guess you are,’ Dean agreed, supportive as he could be.

Castiel looked at him again for the first time in a while. During their conversation, his eyes had been mostly focused on nothing.

‘Thank you, Dean.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Dean replied, with as much sincerity as had been in Cas’s thanking him, reaching out a hand to put on Cas’s shoulder, squeezing so Cas could feel his support translated through the gesture. ‘I’ll always do my best to help you with whatever you need. You know that, right?’

A slow smile, a _big_ smile, one side of Cas’s mouth rising faster than the other, higher, too, his teeth showing, crept onto his face, and he looked so genuinely happy. And grateful. Almost like he was admiring Dean and it caused the smile.

‘I know,’ Castiel confirmed, although it sounded like a promise. He _knew_. ‘You’ve made that clear. And you’ve proved it more than once.’

‘I’ll prove it more times than this,’ Dean said quietly, his eyes searching through Cas’s, again wishing he could hear his thoughts. Because his eyes were saying so much, and not a word of it was open for translation.

‘You don’t need to _prove_ it, Dean,’ Castiel disproved with the hint of a frown. ‘You already have.’

Like yesterday, Dean was very aware of his own hand, and the fact he had yet to remove it from Cas’s shoulder.

‘Well I’ll follow through on it,’ Dean corrected himself. His hand shifted, almost against his will, farther up along Cas’s shoulder so it was right on top of it now, thumb brushing neck, just above the collar of his shirt. Had Cas been wearing a v-neck t-shirt of some kind, Dean’s upper palm would likely be pressed against his collarbone. Cas’s neck was warm, and smooth. ‘I’ll follow through on it as much as you need me to.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Cas replied. He said it so quietly, barely moving his lips, and then Dean saw him swallow.

Dean didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t want to say anything that could change the atmosphere, and he didn’t want to move his hand. He liked where it was nestled. He liked how Cas was looking at him. He liked looking back at him.

He didn’t like his phone buzzing in his pocket, breaking the moment. Not that there was any moment to break, Dean thought, as he removed his hand to grab his phone.

‘Is it Sam?’ Cas asked, after Dean had looked at his phone.

‘Yeah,’ Dean replied, a hefty sigh escaping him. ‘Checking in on whether I’ve done any more research. I should call him.’

Castiel nodded, turning away, looking outside through the glass doors.

‘I’m going to go out and read again,’ he decided.

‘I’m going to call Sam and go put the laundry in the dryer. It’s been about twenty minutes.’

Castiel nodded, standing up, and silently headed into the bedroom to retrieve his book. When he got back out Dean was gone, and he was left with a feeling of intense satisfaction at his new discovery, but a dissatisfaction at the abrupt end to their conversation that was even more pronounced, and painstakingly familiar.


	10. Intimidation and Validation

So, gay.

Gay, gay, gay.

He was gay.

That would explain why he’d been aroused by two men having sex, and when he’d been watching the straight stuff, it would explain why he was focused more on the man.

Another thing it explained was why, when he saw the men in the videos seemingly going insane over the women’s boobs, he found himself questioning the appeal of a jiggling ball of fat with a nipple on top, in one of the videos that nipple having a piercing through it. There was nothing sexual about breasts. They had glands which produced milk during pregnancy to nurture babies. They were soft lumps on the chests of women. Completely unexciting, just a feature on a female.

Though admittedly, they did look slightly memorizing when they jiggled.

Cas, sitting in a hanging chair and staring blankly ahead of him, found himself wondering why people weren’t built to be attracted to all people. But it was a built in thing, he guessed, people were born or made that way. There was no choice involved. If there was a choice, almost everyone would choose to be straight, to avoid backlash from the general non-understanding population.

Cas wondered what Dean thought of this new discovery. He wondered if he cared, if it changed anything, or if it made as little impact on him as finding out Dean’s sexuality had made on Cas.

He wondered what Dean had been going to stay before Sam texted.

He wondered what Dean had been going to say _yesterday_ before Sam texted looking for pictures.

He wondered briefly if Sam was spying on them and choosing to text at all of the moments he felt were leading up to something that felt like it might be important.

Then he had the horrifying wondering about whether it bothered Dean that he now knew he was living with a man who was attracted to men. He could see him as a predator or something. And Cas definitely wasn’t going to be a predator, with how hard he was working to make sure he didn’t make Dean uncomfortable.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t accidentally thought about Dean _that_ way in the past, in fact he had many times which was something that confused him in the first place. Though back then, he’d never assumed he was _gay_.

But yeah, he was gay.

Gay, gay, gay.

Just a casual fact that he couldn’t help but linger on.

Like, now he knew that if he was going to do this whole humanity thing after the angels got back upstairs, if they didn’t end up finding his grace, he wouldn’t be doing as Metatron told him to do with finding a “wife.” He’d be finding … a _husband_. It just sounded so _weird_. Almost as weird as finding a wife sounded, honestly.

He didn’t know what to do with this information.

He had no desire to go out into the world and find that kind of life, even with this information in tow. His only desire was right now to help Dean with this case, and then …

Help him with any others in the future. And help Sam. Just like he’d been able to when he was an angel, only without his powers. He still felt useless without powers. But if they could use him in any way, any way at all, he would be there for them. For Sam. For Dean.

He had always done everything they asked, had always come running at Dean’s every call, and he would continue to do that. His phone would never be off, lest Dean decide to call.

Although Cas wasn’t sure whether he would or not once this case was over, because this case was … special. It was something only Cas could really do, but in other instances there was likely to be someone who’d do the job better than him … Cas wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the pretending to be a couple thing. If it was a normal, non-LGBT+ only building, Sam and Dean would have come as brothers and roommates, he was certain of it.

It was kinda funny, thinking about how they were pretending to be a couple and feeling like outsiders violating the rules of the building, when the two of them were the G and B in LGBT+.

And since the two of them were in that community, both of them attracted to men, _technically_ that meant were they to _really_ be in a relationship …

That Cas should stop thinking about that _immediately,_ because it would never happen.

Despite it technically having a small gateway of chance of working out.

But still. It wouldn’t happen in the first place. And Cas wasn’t hoping it would.

He flicked open the book to where he’d last left off, and continued reading.

He’d lost track of time before he managed to stop himself and go back inside. He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting. He was stiff, and his neck hurt from looking down at the book in his lap. He went inside, noticing Dean was in there, on the couch, and the TV was on. At first he felt like he should go back out and not disturb him, but Dean looked towards him at once, his eyebrows shooting up and he muted the TV.

‘Hey,’ he greeted. ‘I thought you’d gone off on your own and left me behind.’

‘I got distracted,’ Castiel told him, approaching. ‘This book is hard to put down. Every time it seems like I’ll be able to put it down without feeling the need to read on … something happens.’

‘Yeah, it does that,’ Dean chuckled. ‘By the way, I folded your towel and put it on top of the pile. It washed clean.’

‘Good,’ Castiel breathed, a sigh of relief escaping him as he sat next to Dean, keeping his book in his lap like a crutch to hang onto, because he wasn’t sure what they were going to be doing next. ‘Thank you. Did you talk to Sam?’

‘Yeah, gave him an update,’ Dean nodded. ‘Told him what’s going to happen tonight and about last night. Oh, and he asked about you.’

‘Did he?’

‘Yeah. I said we’d kept in touch. I told him your little anecdote about porn-bathroom-guy and I told Sam I told you about the case I’m on, but not the specifics.’

‘Huh,’ Castiel muttered, thinking it was nice that Sam seemed to be interested in what he was up to, and liking that Dean had said they were in contact. Then, he thought out loud, ‘I wonder if that guy is still doing that. In the bathroom.’

‘If he is, I bet they’re missing you there,’ Dean joked. ‘Now someone else has to clean it up.’

‘That’s the best thing to come out of my leaving,’ Castiel confessed, half-jokingly. ‘My not having to deal with that anymore.’

‘No, instead, you just get ectoplasm.’

‘Ectoplasm doesn’t come from a man’s testicles.’

Dean almost choked on fresh damn air. Of all the things he’d expected Cas to say, that had definitely not been one of them. But … okay. He could … work with that. While attempting not to laugh. And also feeling a horrifying unexplainable blush trying to creep up on him, which shouldn’t have been happening, because Cas had just stated a fact.

‘Okay,’ Dean relied carefully, trying to keep his breathing even, ‘good point. Oh, and by the way, I finally read that damn newsletter.’

A quick subject change, to avoid having to face why he was suddenly trying to force away his blush that he desperately hoped Cas hadn’t noticed. _Why_ was this affecting him this way?

‘Was there anything interesting in it?’

‘Not really,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Some guy on the first floor got a dog. The drag queen – who’s actually “Indie Ass” that was mentioned last night – is hosting a rewatch party for some show at a bar nearby. There’s someone selling a keyboard. There’s some general updates on the building and things going on in the area people could be interested in. And then there’s us, right at the end, all the information they know printed up right there on the page.’

‘Interesting name choice,’ Castiel mused, thinking about Indie Ass.

‘No real name listed, either,’ Dean recalled. ‘Maybe because it’s a drag related news point. If it was related to the guy under the makeup they might’ve used his real name.’

‘Perhaps,’ Castiel nodded. Recalling ectoplasm, Cas suddenly asked, ‘didn’t you say we had to test the ectoplasm from last night?’

‘Yeah,’ Dean remembered, turning off the muted TV. ‘Yeah, let’s do that. Grab the tissue with the gunk on it, I’ll get the equipment.’

They rose to their quick tasks, Dean retrieving the device – something Sam had acquired recently – from the cupboard and joining Cas at the table, where he was sitting examining the tissue, the goo just as thick and disgusting on it as it had been last night.

‘Here, let me get some of that on this thing,’ Dean requested, reaching out with the little tab on the machine, getting a scoop of the goo on the tissue onto it, trying not to inhale the stuff directly due to its unpleasant smell. ‘Then I just …’

There was a switch on the machine that had to be pressed, then he had to put the dial to the substance they were testing. The blank screen flashed to life, the numbers getting ready to appear and …

0.

On the scale, it rated nothing.

‘That can’t be right,’ Dean muttered in frustration.

He got even more of it on the tab. And waited. But there was no change.

‘Try turning the dial,’ Castiel suggested.

Dean turned the dial to the next several settings for substances, but the result didn’t change. He set it back to ectoplasm and put the thing down, glaring at it as if it was disrespecting him. Though by not giving him a result he desired, it felt as though it was.

‘This doesn’t make sense,’ Dean muttered to himself, while Castiel picked up the thing and examined it, but didn’t find anything else that they could possibly do. ‘I don’t know how the hell this thing works. I’m calling Sam.’

Cas watched as Dean went through his recent calls and pressed the phone to his ear, waiting. He looked at the thing with the ectoplasm on it, frowning at the number on it that barely constituted a number. It rated a nothing on the scale … just … nothing. So … the thing wasn’t dangerous, or wasn’t manifested, or what?

Those questions Cas thought, Dean asked Sam and got answers to. When he hung up, he looked very confused.

‘So, it’s not ectoplasm.’

‘It’s not?’

‘No. It’s something else.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I don’t know.’ Dean groaned and turned the thing off, using the rest of the tissue to wipe off the part of the device the ectoplasm was on. ‘But we’ll find out more tonight I hope.’

‘And until then?’

Dean shrugged. He got to his feet and grabbed the tissue to throw away, it being no use to them now. He washed his hands for good measure after getting some of the unknown stuff on his finger, turning around at the sink back towards Cas who was watching him.

‘Until then we just … hang.’

‘What do you mean?’

Another shrug, then a bright idea followed by a mischievous smile. ‘Feel like ping pong?’

‘The table is occupied,’ Cas pointed out, reminding Dean of the new tape player and his tapes.

‘Stuff can be moved.’

‘I … don’t know how to play.’

‘I can teach you.’

Castiel looked at the table warily, hesitated, then decided, ‘fine. Teach me.’

Dean’s replying smirk honestly frightened him a little.

But that was okay, because Dean was fucking shit at ping pong.

And so was Cas.

Dean could hit the ball when serving, but it usually hit the table, then bounced right onto the floor and rolled around resulting in a chase, or it hit the wall behind Cas and then resulted in yet another chase. And on the rare times Cas actually managed to hit the damn ball back, it went straight past Dean and halfway across the room, and once he hit it back with a swing from below so strong it hit the ceiling, bounced off the table at an angle and then flew back towards Cas and hit him in the face.

‘It’s not funny,’ Castiel snapped at Dean’s obsessive laughter which seemed to have no end.

‘I’m – sorry,’ Dean managed to wheeze through howls so loud that everyone else on the damn floor could probably hear him. Then he changed his mind at the look on Cas’s face and decided, ‘no I’m not.’

That resulted in Castiel whipping the ball at him unexpectedly and it bouncing right off his forehead. It signaled the end of Dean’s laughter and the start of a blank look directed at Cas. Two blinks. And then Dean was laughing again, but at himself this time, and Cas joined in as the two of them turned in different directions to search for the ball again.

After that whole fiasco, it became more fun. They had been silently attempting to hit the damn ball back and forth, muttering curses when they failed, not really enjoying it. But now, Dean had put on some music blaring up from under the table, and they’d abandoned the back-and-forth thing. They switched between different things; who could get the biggest bounce getting the ball farthest from the table, then who could keep the ball balanced on their paddle the longest (they timed it) and then who could bounce it on their paddle the longest.

Time seemed to go by pretty quickly, the “oh shit, it’s only three o’clock, what do we do for the rest of the day” vibe evolving into a “four o’clock, almost evening” one while they took it in turns counting how many shots they could hit against the wall repeatedly without missing the ball. Dean won once, Cas won twice, then Dean won once again. Now that it was a draw, they decided to call it a day and Dean figured he’d get started on cooking up some spaghetti.

‘You meant that?’ Castiel asked, when Dean suggested he start cooking. ‘When you said you’d make spaghetti?’

‘Of course I meant it,’ Dean frowned at him as he placed the paddles and ball on the table, bending to put the tape player and tapes back on it, too. ‘Why wouldn’t I? Haven’t I come through on all of my promises so far?’

‘You have,’ Castiel replied assumingly. ‘I just … didn’t think. That’s all.’

‘Well then,’ Dean grinned, walking towards him, ‘help me out,’ he requested, slapping him on the shoulder, ‘and fill a pot with water while I preheat the oven for the meatballs.’

Castiel was surprised to be asked to help with something like this, but he didn’t object and got right to it. Then when his part was done, he stepped back and watched Dean work, enjoying the music still playing in the background, enjoying the relaxation of seeing Dean at ease as he prodded and prodded the spaghetti in the pot until it started to boil.

‘How long will it take?’ Castiel asked, once he saw Dean stirring and bubbles forming on the surface of the water.

‘Around ten minutes,’ Dean told him. ‘Then I’ll drain it and add the sauce and the meatballs. Speaking of the meatballs, grab those out of the freezer?’

Castiel once again did as Dean requested while Dean turned on the oven. Once those were in for the next ten minutes, he could relax and lean against the counter, occasionally stirring and keeping an eye on the boiling pot.

‘You can go read,’ Dean suggested, pointing at Cas’s book on the coffee table. ‘I’ll let you know when it’s ready.’

Castiel nodded, doing just as Dean suggested, the sofa welcoming beneath him after frantic ball searching for the past hour. His right arm felt as though it had gotten a good workout, his upper body too, and he was definitely glad they stopped when they did because any longer and he might be pushing it into stiff/painful territory.

The gory, bloody Seven Kingdoms welcomed him just as much as the sofa did, albeit with more blood, more sex and more plotting against everyone.

He was pulled out of that world too soon, although the smell of sauce and meatballs he hadn’t noticed while reading was something he didn’t object to while closing his book and going over to the table, sitting down where Dean placed the plates. Although it was tempting to start shoveling it in straight away, he waited for Dean to go grab some drinks and then sit across from him.

‘Thank you for this,’ Castiel told him, still trying hard not to just shove his face into his plate because it smelled so good. ‘It looks … and smells … great.’

‘Let’s just hope it’s not poisonous,’ Dean replied optimistically, but joking.

‘If it is, I guess that’s two less people for the ghost to kill,’ Castiel replied, equally optimistic, jamming his fork right into a meatball.

What Dean had cooked in the evening was better than in the morning. It showcased his culinary talents in an entirely new way with new flavors of all sorts involved. And spaghetti was really fun to eat, to suck up so long as the sauce didn’t fly up in a speck and need to be wiped off with a napkin. Cas had to wipe off the tip of his nose twice, whereas Dean didn’t seem to care and let his lips get stained orange with sauce and the flecks of sauce stay where they flew until each time he paused to take a drink, then again when he finished eating everything.

They didn’t talk while they ate and finished near enough around the same time. Dean picked up the dishes and carried them over to the sink. Cas followed him over and stopped him before he could turn on the tap.

‘Let me wash them,’ he requested. ‘You did it this morning.’

‘Cas, I cooked,’ Dean reminded him, ‘so I should clean the stuff I used.’

‘No, you cooked, so _I_ should do the dishes because you’ve done enough.’

Dean raised his eyebrows and took a step back, surrendering, but grabbed the dishtowel.

‘I’ll dry,’ he offered. ‘You wash. It’ll get done faster that way.’

Castiel nodded. That arrangement suited him just fine, so long as he felt as though he was helping, so the two of them got to work.

They were about half way done when there was a knock on the door and Dean went to answer it, letting Cas continue his washing without him, but peering over his shoulder to see who it was. When he noticed it was Harri and saw her nod and smile at him in greeting as he looked over his shoulder, he abandoned his task, dried his hands and headed over there.

‘I just wanted to let you both know that we relocked the door leading to the hollows of the walls,’ Harri was telling Dean, then Cas as he made it to Dean’s side.

‘So it was open?’ Dean asked, mildly surprised as a ghost usually wouldn’t need to unlock a door to get to a space in the walls.

‘It was broken,’ Harri confirmed. ‘But there’s a new lock on it. Oh, and cameras will be installed at either end of every hallway next week. There’ll be something about it in the newsletter, but I thought I’d let those affected know personally.’

‘Did you ever find out what that black stuff was?’ Castiel asked curiously, receiving an approving look from Dean as he did.

‘No idea,’ Harri sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. ‘But it wasn’t easy to wash away, or so I’m told. Resilient. And it smelled _awful_. One of the janitorial staff said it smelled like rot. Or decay. But I don’t see how it’s possible to spread rot or decay in such a form, or so quickly …’

‘I guess we’ll never know,’ Dean sighed, trying to keep some of the frustration out of his voice because he needed to make it seem like he thought he was one of the victims of a ridiculous late-night prank.

‘Not unless we catch the culprit,’ Harri agreed.

‘Are you planning on that?’ Castiel asked.

‘We’re hoping the cameras will catch something,’ Harri sighed, looking hopeful but clueless. ‘But you really never know. Now, I won’t keep you, I noticed you seemed to be busy when I called on you. If anything else happens, let me know at once, won’t you?’

‘Oh, we will,’ Dean bluffed, knowing that anything else that happened, unless it involved other people being affected, would be kept under tight wraps. ‘Thanks for keeping us updated.’

‘It’s no problem at all,’ Harri smiled warmly at them. ‘All part of the job. Enjoy the rest of your evening.’

‘We will,’ Dean promised.

‘You too,’ Castiel offered.

Harri nodded last goodbye, beginning to walk back along the hallway. Dean closed the door and turned towards Cas, the two of them returning to their dishwashing post with mutual fazed looks on their faces.

‘So, rot,’ Dean remarked, picking up the dishtowel to begin his drying duties once more. ‘It sounds plausible. Ghosts being dead and all.’

‘Dead and decayed,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Perhaps literal semi-liquid rot is just … another form of ectoplasm. A stronger form.’

‘Which means this thing is pretty damn well manifested,’ Dean groaned. ‘Maybe even a thing living here full time, not just appearing at will …’

‘That would explain the knocking.’

‘Yeah, and the whistling. And the lock.’

‘So … it’s living in the walls?’

‘That’s a big possibility.’

‘So what do we do about it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean sighed. ‘I think we should just … do what we’ve got planned for tonight, then Sam will check in sometime tomorrow with everything he could find about for stuff that looks like ectoplasm but isn’t. I’ll text him about the smell thing.’

‘It wasn’t really noticeable last night,’ Castiel frowned.

‘We were confused,’ Dean replied, shrugging. ‘We were distracted. We didn’t notice it, but it might have been there. Or maybe you just had to be … up close and personal with the stuff.’

‘Maybe,’ Castiel postulated. ‘I think we should check inside the walls.’

‘Do you?’

‘There could be something … it could be in there,’ Cas justified, looking sideways at Dean as he handed him the spaghetti strainer, the last thing to be washed. ‘We could bring some salt. If it’s there we can trap it. Question it. It’s worth a shot.’

‘You’re right,’ Dean agreed, nodding his head along as he dried. ‘If nothing comes up tonight … then we do that tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have more info them if things keep progressing at this rate.’

‘Sam’s research.’

‘Exactly. So, until we can get busy with this again, the question is …’ Dean paused, putting the strainer away and hanging the towel back on the cupboard door it was kept on, ‘what do we do until tonight?’

Castiel shrugged, moving away from his post at the sink and walking back towards the living area, presuming that’s where they’d be headed for at least a few minutes or so.

‘Is there anything we need to do?’ he asked, on route for the sofa where he’d left his book, Dean following closely behind him.

‘Not exactly.’

‘Then I suggest we do whatever we want,’ Castiel reckoned. ‘If there’s any … human experience you feel the need to fill me in on. Like our house warming double movie night, or our ping pong playing and tape listening earlier.’

‘You could use a lesson in aimlessly watching whatever’s on TV with your feet up,’ Dean suggested.

‘Then turn on the television,’ Castiel instructed, then remembering his shoes and cloth outside and thinking he’d better bring them in before he forgot them again he stood up and declared, ‘I’ll join you in a minute.’

‘I’ll have all of Westeros and beyond it to keep me company for that minute,’ Dean jested, gesturing Cas’s book.

‘Try not to let anyone kill you,’ Cas joked right back without looking back after passing Dean, yet somehow aware that Dean was now smiling in amusement at his retreat.

When Cas rejoined Dean on the couch, the TV was back on and playing a random show that Dean only seemed mildly interested in. Cas sat next to him, focusing on the TV and trying to get into what was on despite not knowing the names of the characters or the context in which anything was happening. It was hard at first, to relax, get into the whole TV watching thing which he hadn’t really done in a while and when he had, only having gotten brief stints at watching things because he was usually busy with other things.

He’d missed television. He hadn’t gotten to watch anything since those cartoons almost a year ago, when he helped Sam and Dean with that case. When lingering in the nursing home he’d experienced some bad quality daytime TV, then that was that until … well now, basically. It was ironic. He got back from purgatory and declared he missed television, then weeks later was away from it again.

The things that were on were interesting. Even the commercials, although it was frustrating when they played the same one twice during one break. And the shows that played weren’t heavy or drama filled, but entertaining and the kind it was fun to watch while they were on but they wouldn’t have you yearning for more afterwards, unless it was for fun and not for need to find out what happened.

They passed comments back and forth here and there and about a half hour in, Dean put his feet up on the coffee table. Castiel mimicked him ten minutes later and discovered he was more comfortable and relaxed at once. They watched one channel for a while, until seven, then flicked to another with a show less interesting so Castiel decided to read for a few minutes while Dean checked in with Sam via text, which he liked less than calling but there was no use for a call. Sam hadn’t found anything yet but he had Kevin on it too, one checking books and the other checking the internet. Then they exchanged a few jibes, a few jokes and some comments about how research was tedious for Sam, while Dean got to lounge around in a fancy apartment and blah blah blah, then the conversation dried up as Sam got back to work and a decent show started, around 7:30, which Dean decided to get into watching, Cas continuing to attempt to read through it although taking several long pauses to watch what was going on, evidentially still listening even when reading.  

Cas decided to make some hot chocolate when that show ended, leaving Dean to flick through the channels again in search of something interesting. They’d been watching TV for almost two hours now, occasionally pausing for conversation about one of the shows, but what else could they do to kill time until the building finally fell asleep? It was only eight, and Dean had settled on some show he seemed to know.

‘I’ve seen this a few times,’ Dean told him, looking over as Cas waited for the water to boil. ‘It’s pretty cool for a thing about fairytales. Don’t tell Sam I said that.’

In fact, there were a lot of shows Dean found entertaining and interesting that he didn’t tell Sam about. He often pretended to be less of a TV fan than he was. Another fun fact, but he happened to know this was a re-run of last week’s episode, because this was not the Network it usually aired on and he’d watched the last few minutes of last week’s episode and heard the next episode wouldn’t be airing until December.

But like, Sam was still the nerdy one of the two brothers. Because this show wasn’t nerdy. It was _cool_.

‘Fairytales?’ Castiel questioned, pouring the water.

‘Yeah, like Snow White and stuff. But there’s always a twist – that kid from that movie “Just Go With It” plays young Snow White sometimes. Come on, last time I watched a full episode a few weeks ago there was stuff about Peter Pan except he was evil. And last week I saw the ending, and he was even worse.’

‘The boy who never wants to grow up and allows children to live with him in a land of magic and paradise and fairies is evil?’ Castiel disbelieved, having heard tell of the tale throughout his time on Earth over the past years. He couldn’t recall exactly where he’d heard it, he just knew that he knew of a lot of fairytales.

‘Yeah, I know it sounds weird,’ Dean agreed, ‘but they’ll explain. It’ll probably make sense at some point. So how do you know about Peter Pan?’

‘I don’t remember,’ Castiel relayed what he’d just been thinking about, bringing over the two drinks, with whipped cream and the last two marshmallows they had. ‘I just … know. Maybe the fairytales invented by humans are something all angels know about because they’re seemingly so common. Maybe I overheard a conversation I’ve long forgotten about. But most fairytales have the same gist in the end, as long as we’re not talking about the original, darker versions. Like the actual story of Sleeping Beauty …’

Castiel shuddered. And then figured perhaps the former explanation for the fairytale knowledge was true, since he seemed to know more than he’d originally thought.

‘I’ve heard that,’ Dean replied, cringing as he thought about it. ‘What the prince does … she wakes up pregnant … it’s dark, man. All the originals are dark.’

‘You know of the original stories?’

‘I’m … sort of interested in stuff like that,’ Dean admitted, looking as though he was shy about admitting it. ‘There’s a lot of stuff I’m interested in you wouldn’t think I am. I’m like … Shrek.’

‘What’s a Shrek?’

Dean laughed, guessing he hadn’t heard this particular tale.

‘Shrek’s an ogre from a movie series.’

‘Why are you like an ogre from a movie series?’

‘Because there’s this one part where he says ogres are like onions because they have layers … so I’m saying I have layers too. Hidden ones. Unexpected interests. Secret interests – the fairytale thing is one of them.’

‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Castiel promised, giving him an odd look and muttering the word ‘Shrek’ under his breath afterwards. ‘So who are those people?’

He was gesturing the people on screen. Dean explained who each was, thoroughly confusing him, then went about explaining the plot and developments of the show, which he understood more, then they got back to their fairytale conversation.

‘What did you mean when you said most of them have the same “gist?”’

‘A boy and a girl meet, usually at a very young age in their teens. They fall in love, either slowly or instantly. One of them is usually royalty. There’s an obstacle, they overcome it, and live happily ever after. It usually results in the girl giving up everything to be with the boy. Like in … that one with the mermaid. She leaves her family and becomes human. Which sounds … oddly familiar, come to think of it.’

Dean noticed Cas frowning and made the connection.

‘So you’re Ariel, and I’m Shrek. Huh,’ Dean huffed a laugh. ‘An unlikely pairing.’

‘Apparently, considering one’s a mermaid and the other is an ogre.’

‘Try not to think of it as a mermaid and an ogre,’ Dean encouraged, ‘think of it as someone now human who wasn’t always human, and someone … who seems unapproachable at first, until you get to know them.’

‘I knew found you unapproachable,’ Castiel countered, raising his eyebrows at Dean.

‘Oh, come on,’ Dean scoffed. ‘Guns blazing, shedding blood, acting pissed off most of the time … when we first met, I _stabbed_ you.’

‘You didn’t know who or what I was,’ Castiel rationalized. ‘I could have been a threat. And in many situations, if you wait for an explanation, you die. And I presume you didn’t want to die considering you’d only just come back from the dead.’

‘You presume correctly,’ Dean chuckled. ‘So, you’ve never found me unapproachable.’

‘No.’

‘Not even once.’

‘No, never.’

‘You must be the only one,’ Dean mused. ‘Even Sam knows when to keep his distance.’

‘Well, I’m not Sam,’ Castiel pointed out, ‘if you haven’t noticed.’

‘Oh, really?’ Dean replied sarcastically. ‘I had no idea. You’re _so_ alike.’

‘We have some subtle differences,’ Castiel replied, prolonging their little joke when clearly they both knew he and Sam were nothing alike. ‘I’m shorter than Sam is. I have shorter hair. I wear a trenchcoat more frequently.’ He paused, looking as though he was trying to come up with another difference and then added, ‘and I’m gayer.’

Dean let out a boom of laughter, needing to turn away from Cas to regain his composure as quickly as he did, it being especially hard considering Cas’s pleasantly smiling face, set so perfectly in non-laughter, almost looking smug at the fact that he could resist that temptation.

‘Yeah, _gayer_ ,’ Dean repeated, ‘where Sam’s attracted to pans.’

‘He’s what?’

‘He told me he’s _pan_ sexual. I have no fucking idea what that means.’

‘You should look it up and find out,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘It could be important to him.’

‘I will, I will,’ Dean promised him. ‘He only mentioned it once. He was talking about this book he was reading all about that kind of thing, so I don’t think it’s something he wants me to know so we can have deep meaningful conversations about it. But I’ll look it up.’

‘Good,’ Castiel smiled, approving this time. ‘Even just to satisfy your own curiosity.’

‘I’ll do it now,’ Dean sighed, pulling out his phone and going into settings to connect it to the WiFi, which he had yet to do, although he’d memorized the password from setting it up on his laptop. ‘The password here is weird … “doubleshantay” … I wonder what it means?’

‘I’m not sure either,’ Castiel contemplated. ‘What’s a “shantay?”’

‘I don’t know, but apparently there’s two of them.’

‘Search that too.’

‘I’ll search that first.’

He typed “shantay” into the search bar, and shared his findings with Cas. In one case it was a person’s name, in another a word from a Rupaul song which Ru declared meant “to weave a bewitching spell” and they came to the conclusion that in this context, building and area, it was probably the latter that it meant within the password.

He also read with Cas the definition of pansexual, frowning at a part of what it said, reading it out with distaste.

‘I don’t like where it says “a pansexual person can love not only the traditional male and female genders, but also transgender” people. Transgender people are “the traditional male and female” genders … they just have different junk.’

‘The rest seems to make sense, though,’ Castiel replied, looking over the definition again. ‘Of the other genders pansexual people are attracted to.’

‘Yeah, that part does,’ Dean nodded, then distastefully again muttered the word ‘“traditional.”’ He sighed, putting his phone away and declared, ‘so this has been a pretty educational day.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded, folding his arms and looking towards the television. ‘A lot of discussion of a topic I doubt many people delve into this much. And hearing you voice your opinions on these things makes my level of respect for you only grow higher.’

Dean was surprised to hear Cas say that, automatically turning his head towards him with raised eyebrows. Castiel seemed to sense he was being looked at and turned back.

‘I didn’t know you cared so much about this stuff,’ Dean told him truthfully.

‘I’m not exactly invested in caring about it,’ Castiel replied, ‘I just … care about humanity and letting people be who they are and do what they want to do. That’s what it’s always been about for us, remember? Freewill. This is just included in freewill. All angels have the knowledge that God never intended for there to just be two _genders_. He intended for there to be two sexes with the right reproductive parts to create more people, with either set of parts. It was always intended for humanity to figure out the rest and do with it what they wish.’

‘Yet last week, you thought people could only be gay and straight.’

‘That was never something we were to know about automatically,’ Castiel shrugged, Dean listening carefully, highly interested in learning what all angels knew and what some grew to learn. Hearing about Castiel’s past – or rather, creation and the knowledge he was granted with it – was a rare occurrence and he was appreciating it greatly.

‘Then what did you know?’

‘That God intended for men and women to reproduce, and for all people to love each other however they chose. And then I got to Earth, and when hearing about sexual orientation for years all I heard about was two which I’ve always been indifferent to. I remember when I went … sort of power crazed and tried to act as the new God I killed a group of people declaring God, or who I thought was me at the time, was against homosexuality. They never mentioned him being against anything in between, so I never assumed. In fact, only in recent months have I heard the term LGBT or LGBT+ and it’s only very recently I learned what each of those letters stands for.’

Dean listened to him speak with utmost concentration. This wasn’t something he usually discussed with anyone at all, it was just live and let live, hey that guy likes guys, hey that girl likes guys and girls, hey that girl was born male, hey that person over there prefers not to be called either a man or a woman. It was whatever, it didn’t bother him, there was never any real need to get into discussing it with people until, well, now, besides the casual jab at the law now and then for being stupid and not treating all people with equality and whatever. But usually he steered clear of series topics.

‘I think that’s good,’ Dean nodded seriously. ‘That you’re so … informed. As someone who used to be an angel it’s interesting that you’re just as knowledgeable about stuff as humans are. Especially considering you’re human now.’

‘I try to be a good person,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘That’s all I ever tried to be. I tried to be a good angel, a good follower, until I realized that was bad. Now I just try to learn as much about humanity as possible, and I try to have the best opinions on things because frankly there are things you hear of happening that are completely ridiculous, like how people treat people who are different, or how people treat people with different colored skin, and I watched it all unravel for years, always thinking that this wasn’t how things were supposed to happen … but it wasn’t my duty to do anything about it, and now I can’t. So I watch. And I try to be good and I try not to be like the bad people I’ve watched for so long.’

‘You _are_ good,’ Dean reminded him.

‘In some ways, yes,’ Castiel nodded, ‘but in others … I’m just as bad as people I’ve seen. Worse, even.’

‘No, Cas,’ Dean winced, ‘that’s not true. There’s nothing bad about you.’

He placed his hand lightly on Cas’s arm, internally screaming because Cas suddenly looked so down, and it wasn’t right, he’d looked so confident and like he was in a decent mood just a moment ago and that needed to come back. Pronto.

‘Many would disagree,’ Castiel muttered. ‘There’s things I’ve done … people I’ve killed …’

‘People who had it coming,’ Dean reminded him. ‘You just said they were bad people, you mentioned the kind of things they were saying … you’re not bad, Cas. You’re the best person I know.’

A smile started to creep back onto Cas’s face, albeit a melancholy one.

‘You really believe that?’

‘Yeah, I do,’ Dean professed. ‘I believe it because it’s _true_.’

The smile spread bigger and some of the sadness left it, Castiel’s eyes flitting down, unable to meet Dean’s for a moment, resting on Dean’s hand on his arm. He glanced back up after a moment back into Dean’s, seeing the sincerity, the true belief, which was uplifting beyond description. He looked right back into the focused gaze, a strange feeling, a pressure almost, in his chest and going up towards his throat, as if his chest had suddenly filled with air and was attempting to force him to speak words he couldn’t find.

Then they heard a voice on the television hiss ‘ _Neverland_ ’ and their heads snapped towards it, Dean’s hand leaving Cas’s arm at once, the absence Cas felt where the hand had left unusually pronounced.

‘So Rumpelstiltskin and his father went to Neverland?’ Dean questioned, looking between Cas and the television. ‘That could explain … some things … but it complicates others …’

‘What does it complicate?’

Dean began to fill in Cas on all the details he knew of Rumpelstiltskin’s past.

It was an enjoyable episode of the show entertainment wise, but frustrating when it came to the end because Henry literally _died_ and they didn’t know what would happen next. They agreed to make this a weekly thing until they left, too, like the breakfast. Sundays were the days that consisted of Dean cooking breakfast and the two of them watching a TV show together at eight that night.

‘What time do you think it would be safe to … y’know?’ Cas asked, once they’d agreed and tired the subject.

‘Ten?’ Dean suggested. ‘Ten thirty? We can scope the place out a little and see if it’s safe first.’

Castiel nodded.

‘So we have an hour at least.’

‘Seems like it.’

‘In that case, I think I’ll take a break from television,’ Castiel decided, getting to his feet and picking up his book. ‘I’m going to go read outside. There’s an outdoor light, isn’t there?’

‘As far as I know,’ Dean confirmed. ‘I might take a walk. Just down to the lobby, maybe step outside and see how busy it is. See if anyone’s on the stairs.’

‘That sounds like a good plan. People should be starting to retire to their apartments unless they’re going out tonight.’

‘I hope so,’ Dean agreed. ‘Enjoy your reading.’

‘I will. I hope your walk is educational.’

‘So do I.’

Castiel raised his free hand in a semi-farewell as he headed out towards the balcony, switching on the light on the wall perpendicular to the glass one before he headed out into the nicely lit balcony, beyond which was a blanket of darkness. He sat down in one of the stationary chairs, easier on his neck when reading where he could place the book on the table, and glanced up at the sky. The stars were out, and they were twinkling in their designated spots, none of them falling. Yet all of them dead. The sky was clear around them, a solid inky dark blue, black at first glance.

He really liked it out here, the sky, the quiet, the crisp air’s bite as it was colder than it was earlier. He liked that he and Dean seemed to be getting along well in everything, with two new weekly rituals on top of that now.

If they found something tonight, or tomorrow night, what they thought would be a month would be cut short into mere days. That was a good thing, for the residents of the building. A bad thing for him. He’d thought it last night, about how selfish that was. He didn’t get to be selfish about this, whatever was going to happen would happen.

He pushed away the thoughts and opened his book, attempting to lose himself in someone else’s thoughts instead of his own.

He was moving steadily along, now distracted from his own thoughts, when Dean joined him a little over fifteen minutes later and put a plate and a mug down in front of him, taking the mug off of the plate after he did. He looked up from his book in slight confusion as Dean took a seat next to him and put a plate and a mug in front of himself, too.

‘You don’t mind me joining you, do you?’ Dean asked. ‘I made coffee and grilled cheese. Fuel up before we search ten floors of this place tonight.’

‘Not at all,’ Castiel replied, shaking his head. ‘Thank you.’

‘No problem,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘I brought a book. The same book, actually. I figured since I won’t be driving long distance for a while, you know …’

‘I didn’t know you had an interest in reading,’ Castiel replied with a frown. ‘Besides in the car to kill time. You never struck me as someone who likes to read.’

‘I don’t generally broadcast it,’ Dean shrugged, his eyes on the stars, Castiel wondering what it was he saw in them since everyone always saw them so differently. ‘But I read for more than just research. You can’t watch TV all the time.’

‘That’s very true,’ Castiel agreed with a nod, ‘you can’t. How far are you?’

‘Has Robert gone on a hunting trip yet?’

‘No.’

‘Farther than you, then,’ Dean told him with a breath of a laugh. ‘So I won’t spoil it.’

‘You reread books,’ Castiel stated his observation.

‘I never have time for new ones,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So why not reread old favorites?’

‘Logical and enjoyable.’

‘Exactly.’

Castiel smiled and took a sip of the coffee Dean had brought him. It would come in handy, keeping him energized during their search. It was very hot, a contrast to the cool breeze lapping at his face. He glanced over at Dean again, who had started on his sandwich and was staring out into the nothingness. He looked contemplative. A slight frown graced him. His eyes … they almost looked as though they were searching for something that couldn’t be found.

‘It’s nice out here,’ he stated.

‘It’s easy to lose track of time out here,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Or get lost in your own head.’

‘It’s easy to get lost in your own head no matter where you are, depending on what you’ve got going on up there.’

‘True,’ Castiel allowed, certainly knowing he’d done that enough times. He continued watching Dean, and he couldn’t help but smile at him for a reason he couldn’t find, then he let his smile drop away as he exhaled, turning away from his previous subject of observation.

‘Something wrong?’ Dean asked, now looking at Cas rather than into the distance.

‘Nothing,’ Castiel replied, and it was true. There was nothing wrong, but there was something else going on in his head, not something that was wrong, something that was tugging at certain parts of his mind, trying to make themselves known that he couldn’t put into words. ‘I’m going to keep reading now,’ he decided, looking back down at the book he had one hand on and making a grab for his sandwich with the other.

‘Me too,’ he heard Dean say, and that was the last they spoke before delving into Westeros, one more ahead of the game than the other, but both in the same place surrounded by the same things and people there was no escape from, problems chasing every page turn.

There was silence but sips and chews and page turns for a while. It was peaceful, reading side by side like that. Castiel paused several times just to think about all the new things he was learning about Dean, and barely any time had passed at all. Mere days, and he already knew about movies he liked, shows he liked, that he liked reading, that he cooked, that he was an even better person than he’d already thought and that sometimes when he read he absentmindedly grazed his teeth over the nail on his index finger, right hand with right elbow resting on the table, his other hand holding the book.

Castiel _tried_ to focus on the book, but Dean was so much more pleasant to take little glances at whenever he could. He looked peaceful when reading, concentration and relaxation becoming one as his eyes moved across the pages he turned.

It was after ten when Dean checked his watch and nudged Cas’s arm slightly to get his attention. Castiel looked up from his book, a little startled.

‘Finish the chapter you’re on,’ Dean urged, ‘I’ll check if the coast is clear then we can head out and search the place.’

‘I’m … two pages until the end of this chapter,’ Castiel informed him as he checked. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Don’t rush,’ Dean encouraged. ‘The later the better, probably.’

Castiel nodded, getting right back to the book. Dean smiled and patted Cas lightly on the shoulder on the way in with his free hand, the other hand holding the plates, the mugs hanging around one finger, his book under his arm.

It didn’t take long for Castiel to finish the chapter. When he went in, he locked the door behind him and turned off the light, noting Dean was setting up their equipment; two different devices to be switched on and made sure they were working. Castiel approached him and Dean handed him one of the devices straight off the bat.

‘EVP,’ he stated.

‘The one that picks up sounds?’

‘Exactly. And seems pretty quiet out there, so … going up first?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘If we want to be thorough we could even do everything twice. Do each floor on the way up, then again on the way down to the ground. And do each of the first few floors on our way back here.’

‘Yeah, let’s do that. And if anyone’s around and asks …’ Dean contemplated, looking for an excuse, ‘we can say we’re just walking around and checking out the place we live.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘So do I have to do anything with this?’

‘No, just carry it around and keep an ear out and an eye on the little screen. And I’ve got …’ Dean paused taking something else out of the cupboard, ‘these too.’

They were two metal rods.

‘What do they do?’

‘If we come across with a spot with both EMF and EVP, these can be moved by spirits,’ Dean explained, picking them up. They were light, and had a small bend big enough to be pinched between finger and thumb with no rod left over. ‘You hold them loose like this, then they move in the direction of energy, or they can move to one side to answer yes or no questions we could ask.’

‘You’re very good at your job,’ Castiel told him, flashing him an approving smile.

‘I know,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘There’s more to it than it seems. More equipment for longer searches than general ones. And don’t forget …’ another pause, bending to the cupboard again, ‘the salt.’

It wasn’t a huge sack of salt, but it would be enough if they needed it urgently.

‘And that’s everything?’

‘That, and our phones.’

‘Give me the salt,’ Castiel requested, holding a hand out for it. ‘So you have a hand free for the rods.’

Dean handed the salt over and Castiel secured it in one arm, his hand on the base the side of it nestled into his own side. The EVP reader was in his other hand. Dean grabbed the rods tightly in one hand the EMF in the other.

‘You ready?’

‘I’m ready,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘Make me into a better hunter.’

Dean laughed as they headed towards the doors.

‘You improve every time,’ Dean grinned, confident and playful.

‘You’re in a good mood for someone about to go ghost hunting,’ Castiel commented quietly as they entered the hallway.

‘Am I?’ Dean asked. ‘It must be because I like working with you.’

‘But … why?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean shrugged, holding the EMF towards the glass wall near their door, Cas doing the same with the EVP, neither getting a reaction, so the two of them headed up along the corridor speaking in hushed voices. ‘I think it’s because I like to see how far you’ve come. Because you know how you’ve said more than once that I said you sucked?’

‘Last week when I got you that case and this week when you came for me to help with this one,’ Castiel acknowledged.

‘Yeah, well, you used to suck.’

Castiel chuckled, smiling at the ground.

‘I know.’

‘But last week you did better than I ever could,’ Dean went on, ‘and now you’re so … ready. And you have all these good ideas, like checking twice … and it’s nice to see, man.’

‘You have no idea how much I appreciate that,’ Castiel told him, and if both of his hands hadn’t been full he would have put his hand on Dean’s shoulder to further solidify that point.

‘Really?’ Dean asked, like is surprised him as they continued down the hallway with no results.

‘Yes,’ Castiel stressed. ‘I’d like to be bluntly honest for a moment, if you don’t mind.’

‘Go ahead.’

Dean looked so open to whatever Cas had to say that it gave him some confidence, and he took a breath.

‘For a while now … I’ve found myself constantly looking to you for validation.’

‘Validation for what?’

‘Just … general validation,’ Castiel explained. ‘For years, in some things, actually. I’ve always needed to know I helped you sufficiently and that you’re happy with what I did. I’ve always wanted you to think that when hunting I was at least decent. And now even more, I’ve been trying to impress you for days with my humanity. Being normal. Trying to act like this is something I’m used to. In my head I know it’s stupid and that I don’t need to live up to anyone’s standards but my own … but my standards only come from your validation. And I’ve never known why.’

Dean stopped. They were past the end of the corridor now, at the railing that stopped them from falling four floors to the empty and quiet lobby below. Castiel stopped with him, assuming he’d gotten a reading, but when he saw how Dean was looking at him that wasn’t the cace.

‘It’s funny you say that,’ Dean said quietly, or softly considering he had to speak quietly anyway, ‘because that’s exactly how I feel around you.’

‘Is it?’

‘Always has been,’ Dean sighed, as if it was a burden to think about. ‘I mean, look at you. Look at what you did. You walked right into my life with sparks flying and handprints on my shoulder and wing-shadows and lightning. You were this … superior thing before I got to know you. And then you were _still_ this superior thing. And you still are now – and yeah, I know, you don’t have your powers – but that doesn’t stop you from being more powerful than I’ll ever be.’

‘I don’t … understand,’ Castiel said stressfully.

‘It’s not what you are,’ Dean explained, ‘it’s you. _You_ are just … intimidating!’ he was getting higher pitched now, moving his hands with his words. ‘And you’re badass! And you just sit there, or you stand there, and there’s just this _look_ … and when there’s no look, you’re just this unreadable blank page and frankly, sometimes, it’s terrifying. So I find myself … everything I do, I try to cater to you. I want to make you comfortable so you’re not quite so intimidating. I want you to validate that what I’m doing is working. I never went to show weakness around you. I need everything to be good enough for you. And now I hear you’re doing the same for me and I just …’

Dean stopped, sighed and hung his head, a laugh dripping with irony coming out with the tiniest shake of his shoulders.

‘Dean,’ Castiel said carefully, reaching out his occupied hand and placing against Dean’s shoulder, close enough to what he wanted to do. ‘To be weak is to be human,’ he told him simply, ‘and to be human is to be strong.’

Dean looked up at him, a frown set above his eyes.

‘You think so?’ he asked.

‘I know so,’ Castiel promised. ‘I know so, yet I wish I could adhere to my own knowledge. I _do_ adhere to it … I just wish I could adhere to it around _you_.’

‘But you can,’ Dean whispered, a whisper laden with desperation for Cas to understand. ‘You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to be flawless. I’ve been saying it for days. I just want you to be _you_. Ask questions you think are stupid. Make random statements that don’t make sense. Sit upside down on the couch with your legs in the air and a damn bag of chips on your chest getting crumbs all over the floor, I don’t _care_. I want _you_ , not some perfect vision of who you really are.’

‘And I want to be around who _you_ really are,’ Castiel stressed. ‘I appreciate everything you’ve shared with me that you wouldn’t normally, I appreciate every little thing we’ve discussed I know you wouldn’t generally discuss with anyone else and I value everything you’ve shown me. But … you’re too perfect, too. And that’s what intimidates me.’

‘And _you_ intimidate _me_.’

‘I don’t mean to.’

‘Neither do I.’

‘So … what does that mean, then?’

‘It means we’ve been sabotaging each other,’ Dean realized. ‘We’ve both been trying to act like we’re better than we are. Hiding things that we’d normally say or do … for years,’ Dean admitted the last part as he thought of it. ‘No more. We talked about honesty. We should act on it.’

‘I think we should.’

‘I’ll go first. I dropped two pieces of bacon on the floor before frying them this morning and I don’t know which one of us ate them.’

‘You _what?_ ’

‘Your turn.’

‘I …’ Castiel hesitated, knowing they were doing the honest thing but not sure whether his was too extreme of a confession or not. He took a breath and braced himself. ‘I used your laptop to watch porn.’

Dean was surprised he’d admitted that, even though he already knew, and he was more than a little impressed.

‘No biggie,’ he shrugged. ‘I do that all the time.’

‘And as for your confession, I ate a pickle out of street trash, so bacon that was dropped before it was cooked isn’t exactly a huge issue for me.’

‘You fucking did what?’

‘I was starving, Dean,’ Castiel defended himself. ‘And homeless. But don’t worry – it was _before_ you asked me to leave the bunker.’

‘Thank fuck,’ Dean muttered. ‘If I knew it was my fault you ate a garbage pickle …’

Dean sighed darkly. Castiel patted his shoulder, where his hand still was.

‘It wasn’t,’ Castiel swore. ‘I promise.’

‘Never do that again,’ Dean instructed.

‘I won’t. I won’t need to, presumably.’

‘No, you won’t,’ Dean confirmed. ‘Not if I have anything to do with it.’

‘I’m very grateful.’

Dean grinned lazily at him. Then he paused, smirking.

‘So was it good porn?’

Castiel shrugged, indifferent.

‘It was decent,’ he commented. ‘The women looked like they were screaming a lot. When there were no women it was … better.’

He wasn’t about to admit _how much_ better.

‘That’d be where the gay thing kicks in, then.’

‘Probably.’

The two of them shared a grin and a laugh, and Dean was smiling with his eyes. He rarely smiled with his eyes. Finally, as he sensed their conversation coming to a conclusion, he sighed a content one.

‘Put the shit down for a minute,’ he instructed, gesturing the salt and the EVP, and putting the rods and the EMF on the ground, Castiel following suit. ‘And come here.’

Dean made a motion with his hand, beckoning Cas towards him. Although it wasn’t obvious right from the beginning, Cas somehow knew what Dean was doing and stepped towards him as Dean’s arms opened, and the two of them shared a brief and gentle hug. When they stepped apart, Dean let one of his hands linger on Cas’s upper arm, rubbed it up and down twice then gave it a playful slap.

‘There we go. So no more being something we’re not.’

‘No more being something we’re not,’ Castiel promised, ducking to the ground to retrieve what he’d put down. ‘And I don’t need your validation anymore, either. I know I’m good at this. I hold this EVP detector _very_ well.’

‘Almost like you’ve been doing it for years,’ Dean laughed, joining in on the joke about the easy job they’d had so far tonight. ‘Now come on. We’ve got a ghost to catch.’

So the two of them veered right up along the walkway, on route past the elevators and the stairs to go and check the other side, ease slipping into their walk, Dean gently nudging Cas’s shoulder with his own as they went, laughing quietly, about their mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding the OUAT episode they watched: it originally aired on November 17th, 2013, wheres this is the following week, the 24th. But I read the calendar once and for some reason thought the 17th was a week after the 13th so I just made an excuse so I could keep in all of their bonding over fairytale knowledge. Re-runs save the day ... even if there were none.


	11. Planning and Productivity

The fourth floor was dead and identical on each side. The fifth floor’s doors were slightly different than the fourths. The sixth had a different carpet. The eighth had different walls. The tenth had larger apartments, with only two doors per hallway.  On their trip down, they began to notice subtle differences in other things, too. Some had hung things on their doors. There was an occasional painting here and there on the eighth floor, hanging between doors.

The third floor was slightly different to the fourth, the walls a shade darker. The second had the same walls as the third. And the ground floor was just as they remembered it, the laundry room just as Dean had seen it earlier, the indoor pool smelling of chlorine and looking peaceful, the gym full of heavy equipment.

The hallway of doors on this side was almost … quieter, than upstairs. Darker. More mature seeming, than the bright areas upstairs. Maybe it was the lack of a glass wall.

And every door, every window, every wall and every floor kept the EMF as dead as the victims from the murders, the EVP as silent as their screams.

‘There’s nothing,’ Dean muttered as he ran the EMF detector over the mail slots. The needle on it remained at a firm zero. ‘It’s like the place isn’t even haunted.’

‘But it is,’ Castiel stated the obvious. ‘The murders. And the black goo. And the knocking.’

‘There’s _something_ here, alright,’ Dean nodded, trying again, just to be sure. ‘But … it might not be a ghost.’

‘What else can kill its victims without leaving a mark and get into apartments that are locked?’

‘I have no idea. And that’s what bugs me – _shit_ , someone’s – I don’t know, Cas. That’s a lot of salt to buy at once.’

Dean made a smooth transition as the door opened and the sound of heels met their ears as they looked at each other, attempting to appear as though they were having a normal conversation by the mail slots, discreetly shifting their equipment so what everything was couldn’t be seen. The only thing that was obvious, due to Dean’s mentioning, was the salt.

‘But salt goes with everything, Dean,’ Castiel scoffed, embodying the roll of someone insisting they were right. ‘It goes on … fries. And … uh …’

‘It’s good for seasoning soup,’ a helpful voice chimed in.

‘Yes, soup,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Thank … you.’

Castiel hesitated when he noticed Dean’s face, and turned to see what Dean was looking at with such an excited expression on his face.

It was the drag queen.

‘Always happy to jump to the defense of an impulse buy,’ she grinned down at them from a tremendous height in heels which tonight definitely didn’t seem to be broken. Her hair of choice was purple up front, pulled back into a ponytail that fell black, purple creeping in at the end. Her outfit was black too, a cat suit, with silver boots right up to her knees. ‘I must say I’ve bought many a pair of shoes on impulse myself.’

‘Shoes are shoes,’ Dean replied steadily. Cas could sense he was trying hard to keep that steadiness in his voice. He looked as though he were about to drop to his knees and bow down before this stranger whom he’d never met but seemed to be admire. ‘But an oversized bag of salt … is ridiculous.’

‘That depends,’ the tall, glorious creature before them said slyly, a drawn-on black eyebrow raised. ‘Did you get a good deal?’

‘Five dollars for a bag,’ Castiel lied, hoping that sounded right, because he had no idea how much salt usually cost.

‘A very good deal, then. Sorry, how rude of me –’ The grin, purple lips surrounding the whitest teeth, was mesmerizing. ‘I’m Tony Santolini. Though when I’m dressed like this I go buy Indie Ass. You two must be the new guys, right? Dean and … something unique.’

‘Castiel,’ Cas replied.

‘Yes, yes!’ Indie nodded, recalling the newsletter she had read. ‘Welcome to the building. I hope you guys like it here.’

‘Oh, we do,’ Dean assured her. ‘We definitely do. Great area … nice people … it’s great.’

‘Good, good,’ Indie beamed. ‘Hey – listen – if you’re ever looking for something for something to do on a Saturday or Sunday night, you should drop by the bar my girlfriend with a penis and I perform at. It’s not far.’

She had pulled a flyer out of her clutch for a show starring Indie Ass and India Soul. It looked interesting. Comedy, performance, _cocktails_ and free beers for anyone either queen targeted during the comedy … Indie Ass and India Soul … fucking clever.

‘Maybe we’ll check it out next week,’ Dean nodded, trying not to show his true enthusiasm. He could barely remember the last time he’d been to a drag show. Early twenties, some guy he’d been picked up by at a bar … they hadn’t stayed long.  ‘We’ve got nothing better to do, right?’

‘Besides using up the salt?’ Castiel asked, accepting the flyer Dean had difficulty handing over while trying to make the EMF detector look like a pointless piece of nothing. ‘Nothing. We’d love to go,’ he answered politely.

‘Great,’ Indie grinned. ‘Maybe I’ll see you there. Now I should get going before Miss-Late-Gig catches up. It’s been great meeting you.’

‘You too,’ Dean and Castiel replied within fractions of seconds of each other.

‘Enjoy the rest of your night,’ Indie smiled at them, the heels sounding off again as she walked away.

Dean and Cas pretended to go back to their salt conversation until Indie had entered the elevator and it had begun ascending.

‘So are we really going?’ Castiel asked as they two of them headed towards the stairs, detectors out and ready again.

‘And miss an opportunity to get made fun of by our neighbors and get drinks out of it?’ Dean asked. ‘I wouldn’t miss out on that. Unless you don’t want to.’

‘We need to be social,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And it does sound fun. Unless it would be uncomfortable for us to go out to a bar together, especially one of this nature …’

‘It’s not weird unless we make it weird,’ Dean replied, the mantra he’d been thinking for days. ‘If we can survive pretending to be a couple in a motel room with one bed just to keep up appearances, we can get through this. We don’t want to be those weird guys who don’t do anything. People might think we have problems.’

‘The _people_ have problems,’ Castiel muttered, ‘ones that are apparently not caused by a ghost.’

‘We definitely have to check out the walls like you suggested,’ Dean said seriously.

‘Tomorrow night,’ Castiel decided, reaffirming their earlier decision.

Dean stopped on the second floor, sighing, his EMF as dead as it had been all night.

‘Should we just give up and accept that there’s nothing here? Whatever this thing is, it can’t be picked up by these.’

‘Yeah,’ Castiel agreed, heading for the elevator next to the stairs they’d just reached the top of having planned on another search. ‘This case seems to be becoming more complicated than we originally thought.’

‘We’ll figure it out,’ Dean promised him. ‘We’ll look for clues. Check out the walls. Look for signs. Patterns. Anything weird.’

‘I get the gist,’ Castiel nodded, leaning against the back of the elevator as it rose.

‘You okay?’ Dean asked.

‘Disappointed we didn’t find more,’ Cas shrugged. ‘And my arm is starting to protest against not shifting the weight of this salt. Although perhaps this evens things out after a right arm workout earlier, this being in my left.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘But it’s not like it’s anything you can’t handle. You lifted an anvil.’

‘Yeah, but you know when I said I can still do that, and that when I said I couldn’t I was only saying it to make you feel better about yourself?’

‘Yeah?’

‘I lied.’

‘Son of a bitch.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, no … I knew this honesty thing would come back to bite me in the ass.’

Castiel laughed as they stepped out of the elevator, veering left towards their hallway.

‘Would you rather I lie or pretend to be a perfect version of myself again?’

‘No, man,’ Dean told him, on a serious note now after their joking. ‘I’m glad we had that talk.’

Castiel looked at him and knew he was telling the truth.

‘Me too.’

‘I feel like … we’ve had a breakthrough,’ Dean admitted as the two entered their apartment and locked the door behind them. ‘I mean I get it now. How you’ve been feeling. More or less. I already thought things must be hard on you, but know I know they’re harder than I thought.’

‘Things have been difficult,’ Castiel nodded, putting the salt and EVP detector on the worktop and turning the EVP detector off. ‘Even the nights and the mornings are difficult. Sleeping. Waking up. A lingering thought in the back of my mind tried to make me think those were signs of weakness. That you would _judge_ me for that, and it’s completely ridiculous because all humans require sleep. I think a part of me just … was afraid that by becoming human I’d … let you down.’

Dean stared at him blankly, frankly not understanding how he could ever think that way. He felt guilt start to creep in, wondering what he’d done to make those thoughts happen.

‘You could never let me down,’ Dean told him, grabbing his arm securely with a now free hand, making sure he looked at him, saw how much he meant it in his eyes. ‘You never have. You never will.’

‘Not even when I was working with Crowley, against you?’

‘You hurt me then, I’ll admit,’ Dean replied steadily, letting go of his arm now he was sure he wouldn’t turn away. ‘But you never let me down. In the end … you thought you were doing the right thing and ended up making a huge mistake. And you learned from your mistake.’

‘That’s true,’ Castiel nodded, ‘I did. And I’ll never be stupid enough to do anything like that again. And I’m learning from this, too.’

‘I can tell,’ Dean acknowledged. ‘And that’s what so great about you. You try to learn from everything you can. And you’re developing as a person because of it.’

‘A year ago if you’d asked me to do this with you, things would have been so different,’ Castiel sighed in a breath of laughter. ‘If we’re imagining, hypothetically, I wasn’t being mind controlled at the time.’

‘Of course.’

‘I would have been robotic,’ Castiel imagined, the two of them heading over to the couch since the conversation seemed to have no end they could foresee. ‘And still. Staying in one spot, reading, watching television, but unresponsive and obsessive with both. I would talk less, I wouldn’t need to sleep or eat or anything else humans need to do. I would have been completely indifferent to the furnishing of this place and likely to let you do all of that alone. All of this, everything that’s happened, cutting ties with heaven and becoming human … it’s one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, in some aspects.’

‘You think?’

‘I _know_ ,’ Castiel nodded ‘I’m more in touch with humanity than I’ve ever been. I get to experience new things and see things from a whole other perspective. I enjoy reading more, I enjoy television more. I get to eat things that taste good and I know to avoid things I don’t like. I watched _porn_. I had _sex._ They don’t seem like they could be particularly educational experiences but they are. I’ve learned more about myself in these past few weeks than I ever learned as an angel, and I’m grateful for that.’

Dean smiled, listening to him speak, hearing that he sounded satisfied with it all, and Dean had never been happier for him. But he noticed the sigh, miniscule, that it was likely other people wouldn’t have noticed, and frowned.

‘But you miss being an angel,’ Dean stated.

‘Heaven is toxic,’ Castiel frowned, shaking his head. ‘What it’s become is so … it’s just something I don’t want to be a part of. But at the same time, yes, I do miss being an angel. Because it’s what I’ve always been and there’s a small part of me, an undertone to every day, that says I’m not supposed to be human, no matter how much I enjoy the experiences and the perks of it, even though I wasn’t a particularly great angel to start with,’

‘Cas,’ Dean winced, ‘we’ve been over this. No matter what you are, whether you feel you belong to it or not, whether you think you’re good at it or not, you’re you. And _you_ are one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.’

‘You think … I’m amazing?’

‘You have to ask?’

‘I don’t understand.’

Dean was frustrated, but not in the angry kind of way. He was frustrated that Cas couldn’t see himself the way Dean saw him. Even looking at him now, looking so surprised, so confused, so innocent to the fact, he looked so much better than anyone else he’d ever laid eyes on. Just seeing Cas’s face made every good thing about him stand out.

‘You’re kind,’ Dean began to list. ‘And you’re helpful. You’re understanding. You’re appreciative. You’re complimentary. You’re smart. You’re funny. You care about things _so much_. You always try your best to be good at what you do, and to learn about what you don’t. You value things more than most. You’re reliable. You’re a good person and a good friend, and yes, that makes you amazing.’

Castiel began to smile. Dean wondered if he’d believed any of it – and he’d only scratched the surface of what he could have said, listing off a list that seemed to have no end of factors and little things that made Cas who he was.

‘I could say the same about you,’ Cas said quietly, his head slightly tilted. He appeared to be looking at Dean from under his lashes with his head tilted slightly downwards in a way he looked at no one else. That look alone made Dean duck his head, unable to stop his responding smile.

Dean swallowed, swimming through a sea of possible responses and looking for one to land on.

‘And that’s another thing that makes you great,’ Dean told the stretch of sofa between them, unable to look Cas in the eyes. ‘You see the good in people even if they can’t see it in themselves.’

‘We have that in common.’

Dean looked up, expecting to meet Cas’s eyes, but he saw him staring straight ahead at nothing. He looked down again, wondering if he should prolong this topic, but he felt as though anything else he could say would be too much so he cleared his throat and decided, ‘I think we should call it a day.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel affirmed. ‘You can go first. I’ll pull out the bed and put the hunting stuff back in the cupboard.’

Dean nodded, rising, leaving Cas behind. Cas stayed seated until Dean had vanished and then began his solemn setup, quiet after their conversation, feeling like if he spoke he would ruin the atmosphere they had created, of quietness and of understanding, although he barely understood how Dean could say those things, or even see them in him at all. He sighed silently when he finished his two tasks and sat on the edge the sofa bed to await Dean’s return, figuring that yesterday he wouldn’t have sat on it uninvited but today, after all their little talks, he felt free enough to do it.

He stood up when Dean came back and headed in the direction Dean was coming from. They stopped in front of each other, Dean dragging the stuff for his bed with him and Dean gave him a half smile that looked tired.

‘So, night,’ Dean told him, sounding more like his usual non-spirit-uplifting self, casual manor returning.

‘Yeah,’ Castiel nodded, ‘night.’

The stood, lingering almost awkwardly for a moment before they passed each other. Cas was almost at the door when Dean spoke, causing him to whip around and take a few steps back in his direction.

‘If you wake up before me … you should get breakfast. If you want.’

‘And if you wake up before me,’ Castiel said evenly, trying to keep his voice steady, ‘you should get dressed. Or take a shower. Or do whatever else you want to do. Just lock the bathroom door and … I’ll know.’

Dean bobbed his head once with a half-smile, and Cas knew he understood. When he got to his bedroom and closed the door, a sense of relief washed over him that came with not just the moment, but the entire day, and he knew things would be easier from now on as he crawled into bed, leaving his clothes on the floor and the shirt he’d been going to sleep in under the pillow next to him, because it really was a warm blanket and the walls kept in heat well. He’d put it on in the morning to have breakfast, he thought, which he would have before he got ready for the day if he was hungry at the time, because what did it matter if he wasn’t perfectly dressed and presented from the moment he woke up to the morning he went to bed again.

Dean was incredibly satisfied, as he settled into bed for the night. There was still a feeling of underlying and weighing guilt on him for how he’d been making Cas feel, intimidated, in need of validation, afraid to even let himself be human. And now that he thought of it, Cas always seemed timid when doing human things. Like when they first ate together the night of the pizza following tragic babysitting he seemed reserved, but had gradually learned to just shove that shit in his face without a care in the world. And when it came to sleeping that first night he’d been reluctant too, but eventually gave in. Even when it came to using the bathroom Castiel seemed reluctant to make it obvious where he was going, always waiting until Dean was occupied with something. So Dean never mentioned it, apart from that one time at the rest stop on the way here when Cas had actually asked.

It almost seemed like Cas was embarrassed about being human and now he understood why. Because he felt like by being human he was letting Dean down. Not himself, not Sam _and_ Dean, not heaven, not the angels, but Dean.

But _why_?

When had Dean ever given him the impression that he was disappointed in anything he’d ever done? When it came to Cas, he always tried to be good to him. To listen. To put up with all the quirks, even the ones that made him uncomfortable. Funnily enough, they only made him uncomfortable when he was around other people. And then, he just got used to them. The pressing questions. The standing close. And now, he enjoyed them. If Cas didn’t stand close, he knew something was wrong. If he didn’t ask what was on his mind, something was wrong.

Sure, there was the past, the beginning, back when Castiel was this annoying angel who wouldn’t yield any clues. And then there was when Cas was … not exactly himself. Pre-purgatory, post-hospital. He’d lost his temper a few times then, knocked a board game to the floor when all Cas wanted to do was play the damn game. And it wasn’t because he was mad at _Cas_. It was because he knew that _wasn’t_ Cas, not the real him. It was a damaged Cas, a broken Cas, and it was his fault. He hadn’t done enough to stop Cas from walking off into that lake, losing his memory and then being overcome with guilt so much so that he took on Sam’s mental illness and his problems for his own … breaking him. Turning him into a shell of himself, a soft shell that shied away from the slightest conflicts.

Dean should have been more sympathetic back then. But back then he hadn’t known what he knew now. He hadn’t known why he was feeling like everything was his fault, like he was the one letting Cas down, making him suffer. But he knew now.

He knew now, and he kept it to himself, locked so far in the back of his mind that he barely even knew what he knew, and that was all that mattered.

He need to make sure that Cas knew he was needed. That he was appreciated. That he was wanted, and cared about, and he wouldn’t let any of his personal problems get in the way of that again. He _couldn’t._ Though he was terrified he would. That’s what always happened. He and Sam got wrapped up in some mission and what Cas was doing in his own life wasn’t even on their radar, they used him and used him over and over, making it look like neither one of them cared even an ounce.

Cas was once in the middle of a civil war, and still all he and Sam had done was take, take, take. Their problems came first. He always came when they called. He’d said it himself.

Then Cas was broken, and all they did was try to use him to their advantage even then.

He knew that usage was likely to happen again, and it terrified him.

Cas would become a tool in their problems. And he hated that.

But he would try. The only way he’d let Cas be used like that again was … if he was being controlled by something else and couldn’t help it. But if he was himself and in his right mind … he was damned if Cas was going to be used again.

He wanted Cas. He needed Cas. He appreciated Cas. And Cas had to know. He hoped that now he did.

Dean rolled onto his front and punched his pillow into a more comfortable shape. He found it easy to get to sleep tonight, with a clear conscience after going over and over in his head how the past was the past, and Cas would never be treated the way he used to be again. It was almost as though he’d only just closed his eyes when he awoke to an empty room with light peeking through as it had on previous mornings.

He took several minutes to allow himself to wake up and stretch, and then he slipped out of bed. When he slept well, he was generally good at waking up whenever without excess lingering. He had grown used to quick awakenings in his life, so much so that they became natural even when unnecessary. He headed over to the kitchen to make some coffee and grab a bowl of the kind of cereal Sam usually judged him for having.

He figured that he might take Cas up on the whole shower thing even if Cas wasn’t awake yet. Usually, he took a shower every morning that he could, but he’d cut that down to every other morning or so for the past few days because of being busy, or because he didn’t want to take up too much time. But it was Monday, the start of a new week, so he supposed he could get back to his usual routine of getting up, having breakfast and then taking a shower. It’s not like taking up time was a bad thing now since there was nothing else to do, and since he didn’t have to wait around for Cas to be out of the way first thanks to what Cas had said last night, things wouldn’t be staggered or out of balance, or it wouldn’t become too late.

If he wanted to get comfortable with Cas, become less intimidated by him and less intimidating _to_ him, he had to start acting like he would if he lived here alone, or with Sam. So his bed would remain out until he got around to fixing it up, after he was dressed. And the dishes he used would stay in the sink until he washed them later.

He went towards Cas’s bedroom door lightly, staying still by the door and listening for sounds of life from within. He heard nothing, so he let himself in as quietly was possible and padded on the balls of his feet in his slippers to the closet, to get his clothes. He was thankful that it didn’t make noise when he slid it open and pulled out some clothes, then turned around to head towards the bathroom.

Cas looked as peaceful as ever while asleep. Dean couldn’t help but notice his positioning, on his side facing left, one arm above the covers with his hand on his pillow and the other hand under his pillow. Dean swallowed carefully when he noticed Cas wasn’t wearing a shirt and tried not to pay attention to the sharp muscles he could see in his back by the way he was slightly veering towards lying on his front and not just his side.

Fuck.

Dean refused to let himself look at the shoulders he had never seen before now. He refused to know what exactly he’d had his hand on so many times. And he also refused to look at the upper arms he’d seen just a few times, the tops of them usually covered by sleeves.

He felt better once the bathroom door was locked between them. He was going to have to get used to this.

They were friends. It was fine for friends to see each other in certain states of undress. It’s not like he’d seen him standing in nothing but his underwear. They had the same parts. Arms. Backs. Chests. Whatever. If Cas saw Dean as he was now, Dean thought as he gazed at himself in the mirror having removed his shirt, he wouldn’t want Cas to think it was weird.

Although Dean did have a sneaking feeling that he’d be turning away from Cas to hide his blush if that ever did happen.

The fact that Cas made him blush so much was annoying. Usually, he could keep a straight face at anything. But Cas …

Cas had always been the exception to everything.

He was starting to have that weird feeling again, the one he got that night in that motel, about the fact that here he was, naked, showering, with only a wall and a door between him and Cas. He wondered if Cas had had that same weird feeling, knowing Dean was just an open door away, unclothed. He wondered suddenly what would happen if he forgot to lock the door and wasn’t making any noise, and Cas walked in before Dean had the chance to get a towel around himself …

 _Oh no, not again_ , Dean warned himself. _Not after last night. You can’t do this to him._

Although, technically, he wasn’t doing anything _to_ him.

_Still. No._

Maybe he’d be flattered if he knew. Maybe he’d even be into it. Cas was _gay_ after all, so he knew he _could_ be into it, if he were interested in Dean at all, if he cared to look …

_Please stop immediately._

The fact that he was now pleading with himself was worrying. Part of him wanted to argue back that it was no secret that Cas had called him attractive, but the other part wanted him to shut the fuck up and continue showering with thoughts that didn’t violate the image of his friend.

So, he did what he usually did in the shower. He sang. But in his head, so he wouldn’t wake Cas.

When Dean left the bathroom, fully dressed and ready for whatever they would be doing that day, he discovered Cas’s bed was empty and made. He left the bedroom and found Cas in the kitchen, having put a shirt on but not having bothered with his robe. He was almost done with a bowl of cereal and was drinking coffee from the pot that Dean had made. Dean tried not to stare at his arms as he approached, considering sitting across from him but instead veering towards his bed to put it away.

‘Morning,’ Dean called sounding as casual as ever and trying to prevent the return of his shower thoughts. Then, trying to keep things flowing he asked, ‘I didn’t wake you did I?’

‘No’ Cas assured, with a shake of his head. ‘I didn’t know you were in there until I came out here.’

‘Good,’ Dean nodded, happy that he didn’t seem to have an issue of accidentally waking Cas.

Dean dealt with his bed and the two of them existed in silence until Dean returned to the room having put his bed stuff away. He poured himself some coffee and used the last of hat was in the pot to top up Cas’s cup and then slid into the seat across from Cas since there wasn’t really anything else to do and observed him a moment. He’d just finished his cereal and was now taking a sip from his almost re-filled cup.

‘So,’ Dean started, causing Cas to look at him. ‘Any bright ideas on what we should do today?’

‘Besides our trip into the walls tonight?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Nothing.’

‘I’ve got about as much as you have,’ Dean sighed, a laugh of irony escaping him. The laugh was slightly nervous, too, because it was just as he’d feared in the beginning. There was nothing to do, nothing major going on in terms of the case or anything relating to it that they could do during the day without it being risky, and he was afraid to fall into a pit where they moped around all day, watching TV, reading and turning into two of those weird people who never went outside.

Cas seemed to sense the tension Dean felt, because he piped up, ‘although my immediate plans include finishing this coffee and dealing with the dishes.’

‘How about I wash and you dry this time?’

‘That seems fair.’

‘Well then,’ Dean grinned, picking up his mug and holding it up, ‘here’s to at least two plans today.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel agreed, clinking his mug against Dean’s, ‘here’s to that. And the rest … we can figure it out as we go along.’

‘We always do.’

‘And I suppose I ought to get dressed, too,’ Castiel added thoughtfully, only just remembering the fact that he wasn’t.

‘Plan number three,’ Dean nodded, pointing at Cas in approval and to note his good thinking. ‘So … since it’s ten now … how many hours have we got to kill later?’

‘Well, I’m going to shower,’ Castiel told him, ‘so my guess is I’ll be a little over a half hour, maybe less if I don’t get distracted. So that’s … eleven and a half to twelve hours, depending on how active the building is tonight, until our definite case-central plan.’

‘Good, yes,’ Dean nodded enthusiastically. They had a sort of professional and matter-of-fact type thing going, like two workers planning the work schedule without help from the boss, each of them sounding satisfied at the end of each sentence. So Dean continued in that sense adding an ‘excellent. Time math. And so on.’

Perhaps Dean’s response was a little too enthusiastic with his fervent nodding because Cas laughed so hard his shoulders shook and he was forced to look away. His laughter triggered Dean’s, and suddenly the prospect of an unplanned day didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

‘So did you … sleep well?’ Dean asked, trying to come up with some topic to move the conversation forward, despite already knowing – or assuming – the answer was that he did. Now that they were talking the fact that Dean had seen Cas sleeping, and seen his upper back, and his shoulders and his upper arms and all of that … seemed easier to think about casually, as long as he didn’t picture it in his head with a memory as clear as if he were seeing it again.

‘Sufficiently decently,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Have you noticed how hot it gets in this building at night?’

‘It’s pretty warm,’ Dean agreed, ‘but I wouldn’t say it’s _hot_ hot. Though you’re in a smaller room, so that could be it.’

‘Perhaps,’ Castiel nodded, figuring it made sense. Smaller space, less space for the heat to spread out and not seem like such a blanket. ‘I don’t object to it. It’s just difficult to get used to. I’ve been used to sleeping where it’s relatively cold.’

Like most references Cas made to his past situation, Dean felt a sting. Cas mustn’t have known about each little sting, with how casually he spoke about it all. Dean sighed, not wanting to ruin the light and easy thing they had going, so instead he decided to sympathize more subtly.   

‘I know what you mean,’ he agreed. ‘Some of the places I’ve slept have been pretty rough. Cold. Or worse. There was this one place when I was a kid and the room had a broken window and it was raining, and the next morning the rain was frozen over on the inside window sill.’

‘That’s awful,’ Castiel replied with a deep frown. ‘You know, I approve of motels because of their low price range, but some I’ve heard of, or in the case of the night before we came here, _been to_ …’

‘Some are pretty decent, though,’ Dean defended. ‘Some are even nice. The one you’ll be in should be pretty nice if I have anything to do with it.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Cas nodded, a flash of a half-smile coming and going in the same second with the same minimal nod. ‘Although I’m sure you know that. I’ve expressed my appreciation for most of the things you’ve done even if you haven’t done them yet.’

‘And I’ve told you every time,’ Dean stressed, ‘that there’s no need.’

‘But you don’t _have_ to have done or be doing anything,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘But I want to,’ Dean countered, ‘so I have to.’

‘Wanting to do something doesn’t technically mean you have to,’ Castiel corrected, arching an eyebrow of intelligence at him, that one eyebrow that he could raise slightly higher than the other that always made him look like he was being extremely dominant and therefore making Dean want to turn into a puddle at his feet because of how intimidated and/or other things he was by it.

‘Yes it does,’ Dean reprimanded, getting defensive. ‘Because if you want to do something and you don’t do it, the feeling of wanting to do it will bug you until you do it. Take it someone who’s experienced that a lot. Pretty recently, actually.’

‘Recently?’ Castiel inquired, the eyebrow raising higher still making Dean need to breathe deeply to calm himself and remind himself that he wasn’t supposed to be intimidated anymore. ‘How recently?’

‘Saturday night,’ Dean said proudly, happy he had something to justify his point with.

‘What is it that you wanted to do?’

Oh, shit. Maybe he hadn’t thought that part through.

‘Just a thing,’ Dean lied feebly. ‘Nothing important or that you need to worry about. You were asleep, so … it matters even less.’

‘You’ve been doing things while I’m asleep?’

Well now he’d dug himself into a hole. And he wanted to promptly smash his head through the table, the floor and then all of the floors below that until he could bury it in the dirt.

‘Not … exactly,’ Dean cringed. ‘Just … one thing. Personal thing. One time. It didn’t involve you at all.’

Well, it was true up until the second last statement, which was only half-true but completely true about Saturday. And the last statement was completely fucking ridiculous.

‘That sounds …’ Castiel tried to find a word of sarcasm for Dean’s completely non-descriptive nature, ‘fascinating. It sounds like you had a completely wild time.’

‘Oh, it was a party,’ Dean agreed. ‘Loud music. A boat load of alcohol. People having sex on that table, on this table, on the couch, on the floor, on the balcony, in the small bathroom … I’m sorry you missed it.’

‘I’m surprised I slept through that. Your _personal_ party. I’m not sure how a party can be personal, but if you say so …’

He was teasing. Dean gave him his ultimate grumpy-face.

‘Shut up,’ he commanded.

‘I plan on it,’ Castiel declared, draining the last of his coffee and standing up to head for the sink. ‘I’m only relenting because we have dishes to do.’

Dean, who had already finished his coffee, brought his mug over and joined him.

‘You’re kind of an asshole, you know that?’ he asked conversationally.

‘Does that bother you?’ Castiel challenged.

‘Not at all,’ Dean replied deviously. ‘In fact, I kinda like it.’

‘Do you?’

‘You remind me of the old you,’ he shrugged. ‘When you were a giant dick, but you’ve downgraded to asshole because you’re funnier now. And more brash. And you can be a sarcastic fucker at times, can’t you?’

‘We decided to be completely open with each other,’ Cas shrugged back, accepting the washed spoons for drying. ‘I’m just trying to stay on your level. Make our talks more enjoyable than the more serious ones we’ve had in the past. And it’s not like I have anyone else to talk to who would put up with this kind of attitude. Where it almost seems like … I could be kind of a jerk. But one that’s all in good taste and does, initially, mean well.’

‘So you’re back to being a badass,’ Dean grinned at him, handing him a mug.

‘You could say that, at least for now,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’m more … comfortable around you now, than I would be around others. I don’t know if this will last when all of this is over … because I don’t know what’s coming next.’

‘There’s never a way of knowing,’ Dean sighed, handing the other mug to him and shaking his head sadly as he moved onto the cereal bowls. ‘You just … hope for the best. Or the best of a bad situation in our case.’

‘But what if we don’t get the best outcome?’ Castiel pondered. ‘What would be the worst, do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ Dean sighed, a smooth lie forthcoming, ‘maybe we can’t get the God-Squad back upstairs. Maybe we don’t get your powers back. Maybe both.’

‘Not getting the angels back into heaven is just … not an option,’ Castiel said as he shook his head in denial. ‘Eventually they’re going to want to recruit. Break off into teams with leaders … all they know how to do is follow, with very few who I’m sure think of themselves as leaders. Two. Maybe three. And think of how many humans could die in the process, as vessels, as bystanders … it’s not something that’s pleasant to think about. And as for me getting my grace back … I’d like it back, but in no way does it equal not being able to reopen the gates of heaven.’

Dean nodded, swallowing nervously. Well that shit didn’t sound good. And Cas knew heaven and its occupants better than most. What the tablet said … Crowley had to be wrong. Or lying. Or maybe he was telling the truth, but the whole story, the real truth, just wasn’t on the tablet for anyone to see, but only in the heads of those who wrote it. God, the creator, and Metatron, the scribe.

Fucking Metatron. He had the answers and he had Cas’s grace. Rogue angels they could try to deal with, but Metatron was the real threat. Oh, and Abaddon, part of a completely different set of problems in a whole other story. Oh, and Crowley, whatever the fuck they were planning to do with him if he didn’t make like a canary and sing a song to help them with everything he had the ability to help them with.

As soon as they left this cozy little situation they had here in West Hollywood, they were meat headed for the grinder there were ten slices of meat and one hundred grinders. And if things started to go wrong while they were still here, on this case …

But it wouldn’t, would it? The angels needed time to rally. To strike. Many of them likely hadn’t even found vessels yet. There were thousands of vessels, but a worthy and willing soul on Earth would be difficult to find.

‘Listen, Cas,’ Dean said determinedly, although he didn’t believe his ow words very much. ‘We’ll find a solution to both of those problems. No matter how long it takes.’

‘But is the lesser of the two really to be considered a “problem?” Being human can be difficult at times, but it’s not a dire situation. There’s no desperate need for my powers to be returned to me. It’s just something … yes, if possible, I wouldn’t object to unless someone gave me a reason to _want_ to stay human.’

‘And is there anyone who could give you a reason?’ Dean asked him, leaning against the counter with his arms folded, the dishes having been finished for a while now.

Castiel turned away, frowning at the ground. Dean watched him for a moment, watching him seem to swallow uncomfortably, something Dean knew all too well, swallowing back words he didn’t want to say or … words he didn’t even know. Castiel sighed before looking back up at Dean, strangely dull.

‘No,’ he replied carefully. ‘No one who would _give_ me a reason.’

Castiel turned to walk away, and Dean suddenly wondered if he’d said something wrong.

‘Cas –’

‘I’m going to take a shower now,’ Castiel spoke over him. ‘I’ll see you … when I finish.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Dean replied suspiciously, watching Cas’s retreating back. ‘See you … after.’

Dean continued frowning at his back until he was out of sight and wandered over to where his computer was with a heavy feeling in his stomach, thinking he had said something wrong and wondering what it was.

Castiel breathed a sigh of relief when the bedroom door was shut behind him, although he didn’t know what he was relieved about. Nor could he figure out what that unsettled and slightly upsetting feeling was, come to think of it, but at Dean’s question something had just …

In his throat, there’d been a sort of lump that felt a little like sadness and a little like nerves. And in his head, a pressure, and in his chest a pressure too. But it wasn’t _real_ pressure, it was brought on and likely phantom. Brought on by … his thoughts? Or his feelings? Both of which were unknown to him. Or at least … as far as he knew, they were unknown. And he didn’t know what was causing the current swelling feeling in his chest either.

He felt like he’d been about to say something but he didn’t know what that was. He didn’t know why he’d put so much emphasis on the word “ _give_.” And he didn’t know why he dwelling on this because it was distracting him from picking out clothes.

He didn’t want to delay this morning in anything by getting wrapped up in his head, so he moved at a good pace while thinking but not allowing the thoughts to overtake him. He didn’t want Dean to think he was avoiding him after that odd moment he couldn’t explain. Again, he didn’t know why he couldn’t explain it. Or maybe he could but he was just … unable to admit the explanation.

He remembered to wait a minute before stepping under the water which started off cold and his thoughts were relatively lighthearted as he showered. Like, why have both a bath and a shower? Why have this bathroom inside the bedroom, because what if there were guests who wanted to shower? Or what if there were guests who even wanted to shave? The lighting in the other bathroom was duller than in this one and likely too dull for that, though the lighting in here was duller than in the rooms with glass leading to the outside too. Windowless rooms really made everything seem cramped.

When he got to shaving, his mind wandered towards Dean. He wondered if Dean had paid him any attention as he took clothes from the closet and then went into the bathroom, or whether he’d even noted Cas was there at all. Cas wondered if he looked bad when he slept. He didn’t want Dean to see him when he didn’t look good. Not that he wanted to look good for Dean either, but he did really, but not for Dean, just … in general. He didn’t want to give people the wrong impression in the building or outside or even give Dean the wrong impression even though he knew Dean knew that even if he looked bad that wasn’t a representation of him as a whole, then he began to wonder what exactly Dean thought of him as a whole, besides what he’d listed off last night.

He tried to calm his rapid thoughts with question after question.

Last night Dean had said he was intimidating … today, he’d called him an asshole. And a giant dick, though that was in reference to his past. And he’d called him sarcastic. And badass. All of which seemed like praise which Cas took in his stride.

And this morning he was able to admit to himself that yes, he enjoyed making Dean see him in a pleasant light, but no, he did not need that as validation. He welcomed it, but he didn’t need it. A weight had been lifted, and Cas was starting to feel a little better about … well, most things actually.

When Castiel returned to where Dean was, Dean was sitting at the table with his laptop, a pen and paper. As was usual he went to sit across from him, but Dean didn’t look up for another minute. He appeared to be reading something on his screen and then writing it down on the paper.

‘Here,’ Dean said determinedly, flipping back a page and sliding the paper, which Castiel realized was in a small notebook, over to Cas when he was done with it.

‘What’s this?’ Castiel asked, looking at the list of things he’d never heard of while Dean shut off his laptop.

‘It’s a list of things we can do today,’ Dean explained. ‘I figured we’re not going to be here for long and it’s a pretty decent area so … why not do the whole tourist thing? We can treat it like a vacation.’

‘I’ve never been on vacation,’ Castiel thought out loud.

‘I haven’t since … this one time when I was a kid. We rode some donkeys. Saw some sights. I barely remember that.’

‘In that case you deserve a vacation,’ Castiel told him.

‘Yeah, so do you,’ Dean agreed. ‘So you get to pick one thing we can do today. I already picked something we can do later, now it’s your turn.’

Castiel’s eyes raked down the list of over twenty things and the word “beach” caught his eye. He’d been to many beaches, observed the oceans, the tides coming in and out, the sand blowing in the breeze, the water changing color with the sky. A beach seemed like a good thing to start off with.

‘This one,’ Castiel chose, pushing the notepad back towards Dean with his finger on “Venice Beach Boardwalk.”

‘Good choice,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘That ties in with my thing I picked to do in the evening. Santa Monica Pier it’s like … ten minutes away from the boardwalk.’

‘I didn’t think you were the type of person that would enjoy beaches or piers,’ Castiel frowned, shooting Dean a curious look.

‘I’ve never been to any,’ Dean shrugged. ‘But this … it ties in with what we’re pretending to be here, doesn’t it? We’ll need something to talk about with people we run into. It makes sense that people moving to a new area would check out that area.’

‘Then … let’s do it,’ Castiel shrugged, allowing himself a half-smile in the face of it all. ‘Although it’s winter. Does that change anything?’

‘Nah,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I already checked. Turn the page.’

Castiel pulled the notepad back towards himself and turned the page, which was covered in specific things to do in the locations listed, along with whether or not the places would be crowded or empty. Castiel read carefully through everything, for both of the locations they’d decided on and for everything else on the list.

‘None of this seems very … you,’ Castiel commented, once he’d read through everything.

‘Why do you say that?’

‘They seem _fun_ ,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And many seem to be aimed towards younger people.’

‘Are you calling me old?’ Dean asked, folding his arms defensively making Cas roll his eyes and Dean grin it him, continuing, ‘and I can be fun. You just haven’t seen that side of me much.’

‘Or at all.’

‘Uh, excuse me, ping pong?’ Dean pointed out, gesturing the table.

‘Okay, once.’

‘Whatever,’ Dean brushed off. ‘Come on. I can be fun. We take a walk, hit up some performances or artists or stalls or whatever, leave a tip and move on. We can make a day of it, grab lunch, then head over to the pier later in the afternoon. The pier has an aquarium. And an arcade. I haven’t been to an arcade since … I can’t even remember the last time.’

‘It does sound appealing,’ Castiel replied, starting to smile slightly more than a half-smile as he surveyed Dean’s convincing and upbeat expression. ‘Fine. How far away is all of this?’

‘The boardwalk is about a half hour from here,’ Dean told him, ‘then the pier is a ten minute drive from there. And hey – the stuff we don’t hit up today, we can do tomorrow. Or the next day. For however long we’re here.’

‘That sounds like a relatively good plan.’

‘We can even see if there’s anything going on nearby on Thursday for Thanksgiving,’ Dean prodded although he’d already convinced Cas.

‘My first human holiday,’ Castiel realized. ‘Great.’

‘Then Saturday or Sunday we need to hit up that drag show at the bar. I still have the flyer.’

‘So our week seems to be booked solid.’

‘Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?’ Dean grinned, intense relief coursing through him at their productivity, and that the uncomfortable moment from earlier when they’d finished the dishes hadn’t seemed to left a lasting impact or crept up on them again. ‘So, should we go now?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel decided, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll get my jacket.’

‘Get mine too,’ Dean instructed. ‘I’ll grab some extra cash and go over the directions to these places again.’

Castiel nodded and disappeared into the bedroom. Dean stood up too, grabbed his list and put it into his pocket and headed over to the cash box to stock up. Everything was starting to work out now, and he couldn’t have been more grateful if he tried. Whether they were just here for the week or for the whole month, things … they seemed to be going okay.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Slyly references Mish saying Cas was kind of a jerk s12 and the forthcoming Mark of Cain storyline in s9-10.*


	12. It's Not Awkward Unless You Make It Awkward

It was with greatly unfortunate timing that Sam called as soon as they’d stepped into the crowds on the boardwalk. Dean murmured a swear at his phone as he answered it and Castiel made a gesture that signaled he would be quiet and they continued to walk, background noise coming at them from all directions.

‘Hello?’ Dean called, hoping it wouldn’t be difficult to hear Sam with everything going on around them.

‘Hey,’ Sam responded and Dean could hear him just fine. ‘Where are you?’

People on bicycles and skateboards zipped by and a heard of walkers were in front and behind. There was a stall just ahead that seemed to be selling something.

‘Shopping,’ Dean lied. ‘Out of food. What’s up?’

‘Kevin found something on what that black stuff could be,’ Sam told him. ‘It’s … let me just read this passage … “sometimes a substance can be excreted. It’s nameless, black and smells of rot. The creatures that usually excrete this substance have been dead for a long time, their bodies inhabited by a paranormal being or veiled lifeform. Sometimes, a witch who has sustained life threatening injuries, only being kept alive by their own powers, can excrete this substance although the latter is rarely seen.” Sound helpful?’

‘Very helpful. Thank you. And thank Kevin.’

‘I will,’ Sam promised. ‘I won’t distract you from shopping too long. It sounds busy there.’

‘Apparently it’s even busier in summer,’ Dean told him, talking about their true location although he supposed it could be true for anywhere. ‘So we should just be lucky this thing decided to strike in winter. Less crowds to face.’

‘Yeah, yeah, true,’ Sam replied, sounding amused. ‘I’ll let you get back to your shopping. Call with an update or if there’s anything you need.’

‘I will,’ Dean swore. ‘Bye, Sam.’

‘See you. Happy shopping.’

Dean gave a thankful chuckle in response as he hung up and proceeded to tell Cas what Sam had told him. Castiel nodded as he digested the information.

‘So we’re looking for, essentially, either a zombie-like possession, or a witch.’

‘Pretty much. We should keep an eye out for someone who looks dead.’

‘I think that should be easy. The dead can be easily spotted if they look … well, dead.’

‘Basically,’ Dean agreed. ‘But for now … let’s check this stall out.’

They put the case out of their minds as they wandered from stall to stall. Many were selling things, which they bypassed, but there were a few serving entertainment. There was a magic show involving card tricks and sticking pins into flesh without pain and a mysteriously floating soda can, then a soda can that was picked out of the trash being revived, the dents vanishing and the drink inside mysteriously managing to pour into a glass, although the can had been empty.

There were face painting stalls and temporary tattoo stalls, and fake piercing stalls. Here and there a musician was dotted around, and there was a mime doing a wonderful impression of someone who was being beaten up. After watching the magic show they lingered by a guitar player for a while, then they watched the mime and promptly moved on someone doing tricks on a unicycle. The farther they went, the stranger things got and they frequently stopped to watch performances and shows or simply watch artists at work. 

There may have been less crowds than in summer or perhaps than on a weekend even, but the early afternoon attracted even more attractions to be beheld. There was even a man selling perfumed white roses for a dollar and many people seemed to be buying into that, and right next to him …

‘Dude,’ Dean hissed, gesturing two women with a small crowd gathered around him. ‘Do they look familiar at all?’

There was no mistaking the blue hair or the side mullet.

‘The ruined dog-slippers couple,’ Castiel noted, nodding, trying not to act like he was talking about them. ‘I wonder what they’re doing here?’

‘Let’s find out,’ Dean decided, but before he started to step in their direction he paused. ‘Wait. We need to look like a couple.’

Dean started towards the man selling the roses and Cas followed him, frowning in confusion as Dean bought one and led the two of them a little away from the seller, and he presented it to Cas.

‘What’s this?’ Castiel inquired, and then he got it. So he tried to make it seem like his “what’s this?” was born of pleasant surprise rather than confusion, by using his facial expressions to make it look as though he were happy.

‘Thought you might like it,’ Dean shrugged, as casually and easily as ever, almost as if they’d done this a thousand times. He made a grab for Cas’s hand and then leaned in close, muttering, ‘blue hair is watching us. Think she knows who we are?’

‘She just smiled,’ Castiel hissed back. ‘I think she recognizes us.’

‘Play it cool,’ Dean muttered, on the pretense of murmuring something nice into Cas’s ear, making sure he was smiling as he said it. ‘Let’s join the crowd. See what’s happening.’

It turned out to be standup comedy. Side mullet was doing her routine and blue hair was standing off to the side listening, occasionally chipping in with a witty comment here and there that made the group gathered laugh. They were a pretty good duo, playing off of each other. Side mullet, who they learned was Dani, would ask Piper a question and Piper would reply with something funny and vaguely insulting at times, and then Piper took over, telling stories which was her routine, Dani stepping to the side to listen and chip in now and then. When they’d finished, they accepted tips from many of the crowd and thanked them and Dean thought it only polite that he and Cas tip them, too.

‘Great performance,’ he complimented the two of them.

‘I like the story about your friend’s prejudiced dog,’ Castiel added.

‘It’s a true story, actually,’ Piper told him, ‘but it’s not my story. A friend told me it about her friend so I asked if I could steal it.’

‘Well, at least you asked,’ Castiel noted jokingly, surprising himself by how easily his joke came to him.

‘You guys are your neighbors, right?’ Dani asked, pointing between the two of them. ‘We saw you on the night with the black junk.’

‘Yeah, that’s us,’ Dean confirmed.

‘Knew it,’ Piper added triumphantly. ‘I _knew_ I knew you guys from somewhere.’

‘Ever been here before?’ Dani asked the two of them. Glancing at each other, they shook their heads and she grinned. ‘Well if you think this is it then you’re in for a shock. Come back in summer. Then you’ll see what it’s really like.’

‘Oh, we know,’ Dean assured her. ‘I looked it up before we came. Reviews described it as a zoo.’

‘More like a jungle,’ Dani told him, though she was nodding in agreement. Dean and Castiel both shared the laugh that Piper gave.

‘We were just about to head and grab something to eat,’ Piper informed them, ‘if you feel like joining us. We know a good place.’

Castiel glanced at Dean while Dean checked his watch.

‘Jeez, it’s two o’clock,’ Dean muttered. ‘We’ve been wandering around here for … a while.’

‘It doesn’t _seem_ like it’s been that long,’ Castiel frowned. ‘We _should_ get something to eat before we lose track of time again.’

‘I agree,’ Dean nodded. ‘Sure, we’ll join you.’

Dani grinned and quipped, ‘great!’

‘Follow us,’ Piper instructed.

The four of them started to walk together and began talking. Dean and Cas walked along with joined hands, a feeling they were getting used to. Castiel carried his rose in his free hand, which Dani commented on, and so the direction of the conversation turned to their “relationship” and they gave all the information they’d given everyone else about how they got together and their lives since and their lives now. In turn, they found out about Piper and Dani’s.

So Piper and Dani had met on the internet two years ago on a forum looking for advice about moving to Hollywood area of California. They’d begun talking and decided, due to expenses, to become roommates. The romance part of that crept in later, and they’d been together since their first two weeks in the building.

Piper was a website designer who had moved to West Hollywood, a place so close to LA, to become a full-time comedienne. Unfortunately she was still limited to performing for tips at the boardwalk on Mondays and Wednesdays, a nightly show at a bar near home and a joined performance with Dani on Thursdays and Fridays and every other Sunday.

Dani had worked as a makeup artist back home and got a job as one in West Hollywood too, although she worked from home. Her clients made appointments with her giving her flexible hours, to work on what she moved here to do; comedy and acting. She wanted to work on sitcoms and maybe one day have her own show, with a side gig in comedy, a show in that too, touring the country. But for now she stuck to the boardwalk, half hour gigs Tuesday and Wednesday nights opening for other acts, her own show on ever other Sunday night and of course, her joined shows with Piper.

After a quick hour lunch, Dani and Piper had to get home. Piper had a site to work on and Dani had an appointment to prepare for, although they did make sure to invite Dean and Cas to their joined show this Sunday before they left, leaving Dean and Cas to find their way back to the car.

‘So, that’s Saturday and Sunday night plans,’ Dean observed.

‘Our neighbors all seem to be very friendly,’ Castiel agreed. ‘And welcoming.’

‘They’re not a bad group of people so far,’ Dean noted.

‘And I have to congratulate you on your quick thinking,’ Castiel added, holding up the rose. ‘Do you think … we could buy a vase somewhere? I wouldn’t want this to die. It’s pretty.’

Dean smiled at Cas’s timid request, liking the fact that Cas seemed to like flowers, or at least this flower. He didn’t know why he cared about that fact so much.

‘We’ll find a vase and fill it up as soon as we can so it doesn’t die in the car,’ Dean promised. ‘Actually there’s stores just back there – I could go grab a vase and you could go somewhere else and grab a water bottle to fill it with.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded, smiling. ‘That would be nice.’

They were almost at the car, but they turned around and made their way back to where the stores were, agreeing to meet back at the car. They separated when Cas saw a small looking store that looked to sell snacks and drinks. He bought the water and was complimented by the woman at the counter on his flower which made him smile and he couldn’t wipe off that smile as he left the store and gazed down at the flower in his hand. It was pretty. And pure. And it was a gift from Dean. Albeit it was only part of their false relationship pretense, but it was still a gift.

He leaned against the side of the car when he reached it, holding the water tight but the flower tighter, until Dean reached him with a simple vase that looked almost like a taller glass. Castiel took it from him and thanked him and waited until he’d gotten into the car to fill it half way with water and place the flower in it, holding it securely with one hand, the rest of the water in the other.

‘It _is_ pretty,’ Dean commented, smiling gently and unexpectedly. ‘So, ready to go to the pier?’

‘I’m ready,’ Castiel confirmed, so Dean started the car. ‘I’m still not sure how we managed to spend almost three hours on the boardwalk.’

‘We did spend a while at the magic show and the mine,’ Dean pointed out. ‘And we must have been at the comedy for fifteen minutes or something. Then there was all the artists we stopped to watch, the shiny rocks we looked at, the temporary tattoos we watched get done, the hot dogs we grabbed near the beach …’

‘I’m still annoyed that the wind blew sand onto mine,’ Castiel frowned.

‘I still can’t believe you tied to eat around the sand,’ Dean laughed.

‘And failed,’ Castiel grumbled. ‘Sand … is not good for seasoning hot dogs.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.’

‘No problem,’ Cas groaned. ‘At least you didn’t have to find out the hard way. Stop laughing Dean, this isn’t funny.’

‘I’m not laughing,’ Dean laughed, stopping laughing after that for approximately five seconds, followed by on-and-off bouts of tittering to himself when he thought about it, fueled even more every time he looked at Cas’s stony and unamused expression.

Eventually Dean’s laughter turned into a content sigh and he looked at Cas who was still watching him looking vaguely pissed off.

‘I’m sorry,’ Dean told him. ‘Really.’

‘I briefly considered pouring the remainder of this water onto your shirt or your pants,’ Castiel replied dryly, ‘but I feared that would cross back into the territory of “giant dick” whereas currently I’m content with “asshole.”’

‘Hearing that just made me change my mind about my secret decision to go easy on you when we get to the arcade on the pier,’ Dean told him boldly.

‘I don’t need you to go easy on me,’ Castiel replied curtly. ‘I’m good at … things. I assume the things in this arcade will be no different.’

‘But you’re forgetting one important thing,’ Dean grinned, pointing a finger at him rather than looking at him because he needed to keep his eyes on the road. ‘I’ve played these games before.’

‘You’re forgetting another important thing,’ Castiel countered. ‘You can’t even remember the last time you did.’

‘That hardly matters.’

‘It matters enough.’

‘Yeah, yeah. We’ll see.’

The arcade was the first place they went when they reached the pier. It was packed with children, teens and adults alike, and Dean veered straight for the skeeball. He remembered as a kid, the few times they were in a town with an arcade, he and Sam would play that particular game for hours at a time, although back then they used a quarter on a string so they could play over and over without needing more money.

There was one free Skeeball machine, so Dean used that to teach Cas the rules of the game and the two of them took turns for a while playing it, adding up points, making it a contest between them. Dean was a little rusty and Cas was a beginner so it was evenly matched and evenly abysmal to start, but as the two of them improved their scores began to vary and they ended up stopping when they lost count of what their overall scores were.

Next they moved on to table hockey which they played a few games of. There was no real learning curve for this game, and Cas won the first and second ones straight off the bat, Dean coming in for his revenge the third time. The continued playing for several more games and Cas kept winning, his special skill being slamming the puck in the hole in one swift and hard movement which pissed Dean off, so he started to mimic his actions and once the puck hopped off the opposite side of the table and slid back into the slot on Dean’s side.

‘Fuck this game,’ Dean decided, stepping back when that happened. ‘Fuck. This. Game. Come on. Let me beat you at Pac-man.’

‘Come on, Dean,’ Castiel teased as Dean stalked away, Cas following him. ‘It’s not good to be a sore loser.’

‘I’ll make _you_ a sore loser in a minute,’ Dean practically growled, pissed beyond belief that this newbie at the game could _beat_ him and then have the audacity to _tease_ him about it.

Although, secretly, there was a part of him that loved that Cas was teasing him and it only made his sore loserliness stronger, to induce more of that teasing.

But there was no more losing for Dean when he and Cas took two Pac-man machines, side by side. In fact, Dean was good at most of the machine video games, not having lost his talent for them, which irritated Cas and made Dean grin at him triumphantly as they moved off towards the basketball, which they were equally good at, then they took on “Jungle Hunt” right next to it, with fake guns and a screen, where Dean started off strong but Cas didn’t take long to catch up, his aim and timing almost as good as Dean’s.

They avoided taking prizes or using any tickets they won, because Dean couldn’t have any due to needing to keep this experience a secret and Cas for mostly the same reasons, and because he couldn’t afford to get attached to anything … apart from one picture from a roll of them which they took in the photobooth Dean convinced him to go into, saying that the more pictures they had of the two of them, the more convincing that the lie they were a couple would be.

The pictures came out in a strip and Dean and Cas each picked one to keep in their wallets for appearance purposes, leaving the other two … to be hung on the fridge, they decided. They would buy a magnet and when they got back to their apartment, they’d cut off two of the pictures and leave the other two to be put on the fridge and held by the magnet they bought.

They left the arcade after taking the pictures, laughing about how Dean was blinking in one of them, with their arms around each others’ shoulders to avoid being separated by the crowds. They dropped their arms once they were outside and Dean tucked the roll of pictures into an inside pocket of his jacket, glancing at Cas as he did so, seeing the smile stay on Cas’s face and not slide off quickly like his smiles usually did as they sighed and looked around them, Dean’s watch nearing five thirty.

‘Where to now?’ Dean asked. Castiel shrugged. ‘Alright, then we’ll wing it. Let’s go … this way.’

They turned off in a random direction, set to explore the other places they could go. There were many things around them, but not all of them were appealing, and Dean found out the aquarium he’d put on the list of things they could do at the pier was closed on Mondays. They found themselves at the park next, with its twelve rides, but none of them seemed like something they wanted to go near, unless they were ten years younger (ten physical-human years, for Cas) or were with children, so they decided to grab some food and call it a day.

They decided to indulge in burgers and shakes covered in candy at Pier Burger, where they promptly fell into discussing their earlier time at the arcade.

‘I did _not_ cheat,’ Castiel insisted when Dean accused him of it. ‘It’s not my fault I’m good and hitting things across a smooth surface. And it’s not my fault you’re too slow to block objects rapidly sliding towards you.’

‘You _did_ cheat,’ Dean insisted, completely not seriously, only doing it to see Cas’s response. ‘You used magnets or something. You cheated.’

‘I didn’t cheat. You just suck.’

‘I. Do. _Not_.’

‘Then why didn’t you win more?’

‘Because you _cheated_.’

‘Dean, you _saw_ me. You saw I had no way to cheat. And … and you’re doing this to annoy me, aren’t you?’

Dean broke out into a short burst of put-on evil laughter, making Cas roll his eyes at him and stop speaking to him for the next several minutes as Dean laughed again every time he looked at the expression on Cas’s face.

‘Fine, I’m sorry,’ Dean broke eventually, sighing dramatically as Cas stared off into the distance with the most adorably sulky face on the planet. ‘Really, I am. You didn’t cheat. You’re just better than I am.’

‘Yes, I am,’ Castiel said proudly, giving Dean one of those looks that made Dean feel like he was starting to melt because Cas looked so magnificently in charge of literally everything in the world around them, even though he wasn’t.

It took Dean several minutes to register the fact that his conscious mind had used the word “adorably” to describe something about Cas. It bothered him surprisingly less than it normally would have.

They left in comfortable silence when they finished, the silence carrying almost the whole way to the car. The occasionally commented on something they saw on the way or reprised a topic about what they’d done in the arcade, or even something about the boardwalk earlier in the day, but they didn’t need to talk much until they reached the car.

Cas had almost forgotten about his flower, sitting in its vase on the passenger’s side floor.

He picked the flower up carefully and placed it between his knees, holding the vase steady with one hand too so no water would spill out and upon seeing the flower, he was reminded of how much it meant to him and swarming in after that came his realization of how much this _day_ meant to him.

It was true. Dean _could_ be fun … and so could he. It was a most unusual experience, to loosen up, allow himself to let go and just … live in the moment, saying what came to mind, doing what came to mind, no filter or deep thought needed. Lightly nudging against Dean to try and put off his aim when playing video games with false guns had come as naturally as breathing. Taunting Dean whenever he missed a block during table hockey, allowing Cas to score, was as simple as saying hello and goodbye to someone at the start and end of a conversation. Muttering profanities directed at Dean under his breath whenever Dean beat him at one of those machine video games was easy as reading something out loud from a book.

Being able to do the things he’d been prohibiting himself from doing, always afraid of looking stupid event though it was all completely natural … he felt _free._

Dean had managed to free him, and he loved him for that.

He

wait

what

‘You okay?’ Dean asked, startling Cas and making him jump out of his thoughts, almost jumping again when the car started.

‘I’m … fine,’ Castiel said, with a miniature gasp and a swallow between words. ‘Just … thinking about a place to put … the flower.’

‘You looked a little spooked for a second there,’ Dean frowned at him.

‘I thought for a moment I’d lost my phone because I couldn’t find it in the pocket of my jeans,’ Castiel lied smoothly, the lies coming easier now that his heart rate had slowed back down. ‘But then I remembered that it’s in my jacket.’

‘You sure you have it before we drive off?’

Castiel, for show, put his hand into his jacket pocket and presented his phone in his palm. Dean nodded approvingly, so Cas put it away again as Dean reversed out of their parking space.

 _Love_.

A word one friend could use to describe the way they felt about another friend, of course. Of _course_. Clearly he loved Dean – he wouldn’t drop everything and run to him all the time if he didn’t, if he didn’t care enough to, and his rapidly beating heart was just a sign of … confirmation of his realization that had seemed to come as a shock but actually wasn’t shocking. Of course he loved Dean.

He loved Sam, too. Sam was a good friend, Sam was someone he appreciated and enjoyed helping out too. He would do what he could to help him and, in the past, he’d done what he could to save him …

for Dean.

But for Sam too. Of course he’d done it for Sam too. Because he cared about Sam and valued his friendship and their bond, even if his bond with Dean was a little more profound.

Like, come on. He’d literally said “I love you guys” to both of them and then _hugged_ them in a _friendly_ way.

Then again he’d been out of his fucking mind at the time. He’d felt free then, too, but for all the wrong reasons.

Yes. Good. He loved Sam and Dean.

He loved Sam.

He loved Dean.

 _Dean_.

The fact that his heart rate went up so much, a panic spreading through him and something thick in his throat and wet in his eyes at the latter … it didn’t mean anything.

He rested his head back and took a deep breath, swallowing, willing himself to calm down and he felt the panic slip away and his eyes become dry once again. Though it still took effort to keep his breathing calm.

He looked over at Dean curiously, watching Dean’s eyes on the road and his face looking relaxed, and it became harder to remain calm.

I love you.

Guys.

I love you guys.

Is what that broken and loopy version of him had said to Sam and Dean.

Because any other type of love would be completely ridiculous and impossible and so … so _sudden_.

Sure, Dean had helped him see what was right and that it was better to do what was right over what was easy, getting him to choose freewill over heaven. And sure, Dean had been the only one who hadn’t jumped to conclusions about him during that whole Crowley and purgatory thing. And yeah, Dean had said he’d rather have him, cursed or not during one of the most difficult, self-doubting times in his life. And Dean had searched for him, and prayed to him every night, for months in purgatory, not caring that Cas was trying to stay ahead and keep the monsters away, but wanting to make sure he was okay like no one but him had before. And he’d vowed he wouldn’t leave purgatory without him. And he’d been more than understanding when he was being controlled by Naomi, and hadn’t even tried to fight back during that one dreaded time …

And he hadn’t fought back years before, when Cas had thought Dean was weak and was going to say yes to Michael. He hadn’t even blamed Cas for what he’d done. He just … took it. And that was that.

And Dean didn’t blame Cas for this whole mess with the angels falling, he didn’t blame Cas for Metatron getting the angel tablet, he didn’t blame Cas for losing his powers and he didn’t care that he didn’t have them. Dean didn’t care that Cas was human, he didn’t care if he was an angel or not, he didn’t care about any of that.

Dean had bandaged his wound which was now healed, his wrist only hurting if he flicked it too sharply now. He’d given him pizza and a bed to sleep in and returned a week later with a favor to ask and another bed for him to sleep in and food for him and clothes to borrow and then money to buy clothes of his own, he’d given him the first gift he’d ever gotten and given him the second too, which was right between his knees with his hands on it too holding it secure, and everything he’d done had all been for Cas, and even though Cas didn’t deserve it Dean said he did.

Dean had done more for Cas than anyone else ever had.

Cas did not love Sam the way he loved Dean.

He loved his friend Sam.

And Castiel _loved_ Dean.

Now that he’d accepted it it was easier to breathe and his heart was calm once more, because once he’d accepted it he knew he could live with it and deal with it as long as he never let Dean know.

‘So what do you think we should do when we get back?’ Castiel asked, as casual as he had been before his realization and acceptance.

‘Sit down,’ Dean joked. ‘We’ve been walking around all day.’

‘Technically, we’re sitting now.’

‘ _You’re_ sitting now,’ Dean corrected. ‘I’m driving.’

‘You’re still sitting. You just have to move your feet a little.’

‘I want to sit and not _have_ to move my feet,’ Dean whined.

‘Well I’d offer to drive, but I’m holding this,’ Castiel informed him in an easy tone, gesturing the vase with the flower.

‘Rude,’ Dean muttered. ‘Caring about a flower more than me.’

 _If only you knew_ , Castiel thought sarcastically.

‘I’ve never thought of you as one to complain,’ Castiel remarked.

‘Well then you must not know a lot about me,’ Dean replied haughtily.

‘No, I know a lot about you,’ Castiel replied evenly. ‘More than Sam, apparently.’

‘Well … you’ve got me there,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Shit.’

Castiel smirked in satisfaction. Only he knew about Dean’s thing for drag queens, for chick flicks, for the show Once Upon A Time and for the real, twisted and original versions of fairytales. Only he knew about Dean’s fascination for seeing art created, Dean having muttered a ‘don’t tell Sam I ever showed an interest in this’ while they were watching artists at work today. Only he knew some of Dean’s thoughts on topics Dean didn’t often discuss. Only he knew Dean’s most private secret, the secret of his sexuality.

He knew things about Dean that Dean rarely let see the light of day, and he would keep them to himself for as long as he lived.

And there were other little things he’d discovered, too, that likely he wasn’t the only one to know, but he was glad he did.

Dean took his coffee black and sugarless. He often kept his head tilted when watching television and frequently shifted his position, starting in an upright sitting one and slowly sliding down into a reclined one. When washing dishes, Dean often twirled cutlery over in his hands a few times for visual effect as he handed them over to be dried, or put them away after drying them. He always washed his hands after washing dishes and when drying his hands he dried the left once first. He always put the dish soap, bathroom soap and shaving cream back in the same exact spot with the brands or labels facing out. He occasionally licked his lips distractedly when speaking in serious tones, and sometimes he even bit his bottom lip so discreetly it was near unnoticeable and lasted only a moment. When he sneezed, he covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his right elbow rather than with his hand, and it was to be noted that foods with a strong flavor – such as a bag of chips they’d gotten that were very, very strong in the vinegar department – irritated his nose and made him sneeze.

Dean rarely yawned, but when he did it was while watching television, reading or just after driving, and his yawns weren’t like the yawns of most people. He kept them small, his mouth barely opening at all under his right hand, the side of the right index finger of which pressed against the space between his upper lip and his nose. They were more like sighs, really, his shoulders heaving and then relaxing. And the times Dean did yawn a yawn closer to that of most people, he closed his eyes and turned his head, sighing out the air he’d breathed in afterwards.

Dean usually sat with his legs pretty far apart, but sometimes he stretched his legs out in front of him and sometimes he crossed his ankles, and when he did it was always right over left. And when he leaned against something it was usually to his right. He most frequently sat on the side of the table that faced the wall, his back to the rest of the apartment. And sometimes he hummed when doing a task, so softly that he didn’t even seem to notice he was doing it, like he had while cooking and while setting up the apartment on that first day.

Oh, and he was organized. Very organized with lists. And he was neat, which was something Cas wouldn’t have thought about him before he’d seen it firsthand.

He always closed the right curtain first.

When washing objects, he always went smallest to biggest.

Occasionally when making a phone call, he forgot the button to call was always on screen and he slid the screen back away from the apps and onto the first screen with text messages and calendar and the like, spending a moment searching for the call button until he realized it was on the bottom left.

When sitting on a bed, Dean either kept his legs out in front of him with his ankles crossed, or one knee up and the other leg flat against the bed, and he unconsciously jiggled his foot when thinking,whether he was on a bed or on a chair.

Dean slept on his back mostly, but his head was always turned to the side, usually the right.

And there was more, so much more, little things that he’d noticed but couldn’t bring to memory unless reminded of them.

And all of it he’d learned in a matter of days.

He must really, really love Dean to observe and recall all of that yet not even realize he was doing it until he tried to think of all the things he knew about Dean.

He wondered how long he’d loved Dean, and if on some level he always knew.

He tried to think back, recognize the signs and the feelings he was now learning, as he thought, to associate with his realization.

There was the swelling in his chest, which he now realized was a feeling surrounding the area of his heart, triggered by the mind’s perception of love coming from the heart despite the scientific and biological inaccuracy of that.

Facts! Dean knew a lot of random facts.

And there was the swallowing back words, words that probably would have let both himself and Dean know how he felt.

Dean often appeared to stop himself from saying things, too. Castiel wondered what.

And there was the feeling, the impulse, almost, where he wanted to touch Dean in some way, the hand on his shoulder not feeling like enough. He’d never known where he wanted to touch Dean, or what he wanted to do to him, but now he did. Even if he could have just … touched his face with one or both hands. Held his face in his palm. Brushed a thumb across his cheekbone, taken a step closer …

He wondered what it would be like to kiss Dean.

Just for a moment. Very softly.

Or perhaps for longer, and perhaps not very softly at all.

Maybe against a wall.

Maybe on the sofa.

Maybe on a bed.

Maybe they were side by side.

Or maybe Dean was pressed beneath him, their bodies pressed together, Dean bending to Cas’s every will. 

Maybe they were in a less than dressed state.

Maybe he could kiss other parts of Dean, too.

Maybe he could feel Dean’s lips on other parts of him.

Or maybe just on his lips. Either way.

He wondered what Dean’s lips felt like.

They _were_ very nice lips.

He’d noticed that. He’d looked at them before.

He –

‘Cas?’

‘Huh?’ Castiel snapped out of his near-frozen state, and he hadn’t realized he’d been staring at Dean throughout.

‘You okay there, buddy?’

‘Yeah, I, uh …’ Castiel cleared his throat, thinking back to a past conversation. ‘You’re pretty.’

Dean laughed, understanding his reference.

‘Well, next time you blank out,’ Dean told him, taking an index finger and placing it against Cas’s cheek, pushing his head into a looking-forward position, ‘stare at the road,’ Dean finished. ‘It’s distracting having you looking at me like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like you’re … studying me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel replied, although really he wasn’t because he’d gotten to call Dean pretty and gotten to have Dean’s finger on his face.

‘Don’t be,’ Dean laughed. ‘I’m kidding.’

Castiel smiled.

It was hard to resist the urge to place his hand on his face and feel where Dean’s finger was, just to be sure it was really real.

Sooo … what had he been thinking about before getting distracted by the thought of his face on Dean’s face?

Oh, right. Yes. How long had he been in love with him.

Shit. How long had he loved him. Not been _in_ love with him.

Although the second realization didn’t actually shock him as much as the first had. It seemed to just … make sense. Yeah, he was in love with Dean. Big deal. It’s not like anyone would know.

So … how long had it been. Hmm. Hard to tell.

Maybe it had been just a few days … although now he knew the signs, he was pretty sure he’d been in love with him the night of the pizza and the sexuality reveal after the horrifying babysitting incident. And he’d been in love with him when he’d had to leave the bunker. And even when he fell. And when he was running from angels trying to keep the tablet safe. And in purgatory. And _before_ purgatory. And the realization of the love he hadn’t recognized had hit him pretty hard when he’d gotten his memories back, after not having them, after walking off into that lake …

And he’d loved Dean before walking into the lake, too. Back when he was trying to open purgatory, working with Crowley … he may have been going against Sam and Dean, but he thought he’d been doing good, and had never intended to hurt Dean, or let him down, because he would never purposefully do that because he loved him.

And when Sam and been in hell, or so they’d thought, and Dean had found a life and been happy for a while … he’d loved him then, too, but he’d let him go.

He’d loved him when he was trying to convince him to say no to Michael. That was the reason it had hurt him and angered him so much when he feared that Dean would.

He was afraid to think back farther than that, because if he did he didn’t know what memories he would drag up of a past version of himself, a version of himself that was mean and unyielding that he never wanted to be again.

Every single time he tried to pinpoint a moment, or a microsecond within a moment, that he might have fallen in love with Dean, there was always a time before that.

It was impossible to figure out.

Suddenly they were coming to a stop and Castiel realized they were in the parking lot underneath their building. That had certainly been a stressful and educational half hour.

Castiel opened his door, made sure he had his flower and stepped out of the car, already heading towards the elevator with Dean at his side. And then Dean grabbed him by the arm to stop him pressing the button for the elevator.

‘Look,’ Dean hissed. ‘There it is.’

He was pointing. Pointing at the end of the wall to the left of them, where there was a door almost unclockable because it was the same color as the wall.

The door that led to the walls and hollows of the building. Right. Yes.

Because they weren’t just here living together. They were here living together because of a case.

A case that would be over some time.

And Cas wouldn’t get to see Dean every day after that, unless he could give Dean a reason for that to be untrue.

Of course, he could never _give_ Dean a reason for that to be untrue; it was beyond his control, and from what he could tell, it was beyond Dean’s control too.

And then it hit him. What he’d meant earlier, before he’d gone off to take a shower, with his emphasis on the word _give_.

No one could _give_ him a reason to stay human.

Because the only reason would be because of Dean. Because … that thing, Metatron had told him to do, to have a life and all of that, there was only one person he would ever want that life with, or because of, and that was Dean.

And he was never telling Dean how he felt, to spare Dean the pressure of having to tell him he didn’t feel the same way. So Dean couldn’t _give_ him a reason, even if he was the reason, were there a reason at all.

‘Hey. Cas. You with me?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘Yes. I see it. The door. The door we’ll be going through tonight.’

‘Are you _sure_ you’re okay?’ Dean asked slowly. ‘You’ve been acting pretty weird since we left that pier.’

‘Yes, I’m fine. Yes. I just … I’m ti – need to go to the– hungry.’

‘What?’

‘I’m hungry,’ Castiel said confidently, having flitted through two other excuses, one of which wouldn’t work because clearly he wasn’t tired, the other of which was something he’d feel weird saying to Dean because he _loved_ Dean and didn’t want Dean to think of him in the bathroom at all.

‘Dude, we just ate.’

‘So? We walked around a lot today. That … increases the speed of digestion … I think.’

Dean laughed, clapping a hand on Cas’s back as the other hand reached to press the button on the elevator for the fourth floor, the doors opening instantly because apparently the elevator was already at this level. Dean ushered Cas in with his hand on his back and removed it as the doors closed.

Cas wished Dean hadn’t removed his hand. And he wished he’d appreciated it more earlier, when they had their arms around each others’ shoulders in laughter. And the other night when they hugged. And when they were sharing a bed, even if all he got was Dean’s feet in his face.

Maybe he should have kissed Dean, those two times when they were having those Sam-interrupted conversations that seemed to be unfinished. Maybe if Cas had braved up and done something, they wouldn’t feel so unfinished.

But Cas _couldn’t_ kiss Dean because that would ruin everything and make it awkward.

But he could milk this fake relationship thing for all it was worth this weekend, when they would be surrounded by neighbors they had to convince.

They were mostly quiet until they reached their apartment, Dean sensing Cas wasn’t really in the mood for talking. Although, though it may have seemed to anyone inside of Cas’s head that he wasn’t talking because he felt awkward or afraid of slipping up, it wasn’t. It was because he was thoughtful and still digesting the information he’d revealed to himself, and he was looking at Dean and thinking of him in a new light. Yet … it didn’t seem like he was thinking of him in a new light. More like in the old one, but he finally understood the nature of old thoughts.  

‘So,’ said Dean with a sigh, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair, Castiel doing the same with the chair across from it. ‘You said you were hungry.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel lied. He didn’t feel particularly hungry, but he wasn’t full either. More neutral. ‘Could you teach me how to make one of those sandwich things you brought me outside?’ he asked. ‘The melted thing with the cheese?’

‘You mean a grilled cheese?’

‘Oh, that’s what it’s called? That seems like an obvious name for it. Yes, I mean that.’

‘Follow me,’ Dean instructed, sauntering over to the kitchen with Castiel close behind him, holding his flower which he’d only briefly put down to remove his jacket.

‘One second,’ he decided suddenly, heading over towards the mantle above the fire, where he slid the flower in next to all of the pictures, then returned to where Dean had pulled out bread, butter and cheese and a knife. ‘Okay, I’m ready. Teach me.’

Dean cooked them by using a frying pan, and it was a short lesson, basically showing Cas when to know it was done and when to flip it. To show off, he’d flipped it using just the pan and nothing to turn it with, but he mentioned, bragging, that being able to jolt the frying pan and have the grilled cheese flip and land back in it was an ‘art that takes years of practice, so I wouldn’t recommend trying it unless you have a lot of bread and cheese to spare.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Castiel promised sarcastically, sensing Dean was just gloating and trying to make it sound more difficult than it was.

Dean made hot chocolate – marshmallow free, unfortunately – for the two of them while Cas took his plate over to the sofa and turned on the TV with the remote on the coffee table. Something, he knew, that before he and Dean had their talk, he wouldn’t have thought of doing without asking Dean first. Dean soon appeared next to him with a groan and a ‘finally.’

‘Could you get up and get me a –’ Cas started to jokingly request, but Dean’s glare silenced him and then replaced the rest of his sentence with laughter.

‘Shut up and eat your sandwich,’ Dean glowered. ‘And tell me which one of these you want.’

He was holding the roll of pictures from earlier and each one was different, with a scissors in his other hand. There was one where they were just smiling and looking into the camera, and another where they were doing the same thing but Dean was resting his elbow on Cas’s shoulder as if board. Then there was one where Dean had said something funny and made Cas laugh, but Dean had managed to keep a straight face with one problem; he blinked as the camera went off. That was the picture Dean opted to take, Cas deciding to take the one where they were looking at each other with intense looks on their faces, but smiles in their eyes if not on their lips.

Dean sighed, huge and false, when he thought he had to get up again so Cas told him to stay still and got up, getting the magnet Dean had bought when exploring the pier that was in Dean’s jacket as Dean instructed of them. He stuck the remaining two pictures to the fridge and made a detour to the bedroom to grab his book before he returned to his seat next to Dean, to read rather than watching TV, because Dean had begun watching the thing that was on but Cas didn’t find it particularly interesting.

It was easy, like yesterday had been. Cas went between reading, watching TV and watching Dean watch TV. At one stage Dean had a conversation with Sam via text telling him that they were planning to go into the walls tonight and Sam warned him to be careful, Dean brushing him off saying he was always careful, so Sam replied with a “yeah, sure” which pissed Dean off enough to make him google “picture of middle finger” and send him a picture of someone flipping off the camera. Sam hadn’t replied.

Monday night television wasn’t as good as Sunday night, but it was decent, and watching TV wasn’t all they did. Midway through a part of the book Cas was reading, he stopped to voice an opinion which launched into a conversation and then an argument about Daenerys, and her intention to cross the narrow sea and take back Westeros.

‘It’s completely ridiculous that she should want to,’ Dean argued. ‘She has so much already. She has a son on the way, a husband who will bend to her every wish and an army to command. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she’s fucking crazy.’

‘She’s the last Targaryen,’ Castiel argued back. ‘The only true heir to the throne. Robert doesn’t belong on it and he’s a terrible king and he doesn’t even seem to like the job anyway. She should take back what’s hers.’

‘ _No_ ,’ Dean snapped. ‘No, she should stick to the life she made for herself _where she is_. It makes even less sense in later books that she’d want to leave.’

‘ _You_ make less sense,’ Castiel fumed. ‘And no, I don’t know what that means.’

Castiel had angrily gone back to reading and Dean, rolling his eyes and pissed off had turned back towards the television with his arms folded.

 _Fucking stubborn_ , Dean thought to himself in annoyance. _I hate that I like it_.

Dean soon calmed down, and as he watched Cas read, he figured Cas looked like he’d calmed down too. While Castiel continued to read, Dean decided to go over and grab his laptop and see what they could get up to for the rest of the week, see if there were any more tourist sites they could visit tomorrow and the next day and see if there were any events going on Thursday they could hit up because Dean was _not_ about to cook Thanksgiving dinner for the two of them because that was going a step too far in the domesticity.

But the internet showed even worse results, the only Thanksgiving-type events being dinner served in restaurants and that was a step too far, too. That would be like … a _date_. So the only option was, in actual fact, cooking. Well, shit.

Thursday aside, they still had two more days before that, and plenty of days after that to fill up with things to do and places to go, tourist attractions to see just to have something to do. He looked over his list from this morning and was reminded of how dumb a lot of the things on it were. Cas had been right; they weren’t very _him_. But he’d never know if he hated the stuff until he tried it out.

And, frankly, there were some places to visit on that list that he’d be likely to visit if he were alone so long as no one ever found out, because some of the stuff adhered to his interests he didn’t often make known.

Except, lately, to Cas.

He looked over at Cas and allowed himself a smile, and suddenly the places on that list, the places site after site online listed, didn’t seem so daunting with company. Cringey, yes, but that was something he could get through as long as it was just _Cas_ , who it was so easy to tell things to that he didn’t tell everyone else, who never batted an eyelid, and that was something Dean loved him for.

About him. Shit, no, loved _about_ him.

Well fuck.

Like he hadn’t seen that one coming.

It was only a matter of time before he stopped denying it and accidentally admitted it to himself.

Great. Fucking _great_.

Just as they’d finally fucking sorted out their shit, Dean had to go and ruin it for himself by letting repressed thoughts slip through to the surface and make things awkward.

But it wasn’t awkward. Because Cas didn’t know.

Excellent.

Play it cool, play it cool.

‘Hey, Cas,’ Dean called, making Castiel look up from his book. ‘I don’t feel like cooking turkey, so do you think we could … go out on Thursday? The internet says there’s places around here that do a good Thanksgiving dinner, but there’s no … events or anything like a parade or whatever.’

 _So much for playing it cool you absolute fucking moron_ , he snarled at himself. _That’s as good as fucking asking him out._

‘I don’t mind,’ Castiel answered, shrugging. ‘If there’s no events we don’t have to celebrate it at all. If you don’t want to.’

‘No, no, we have to,’ Dean insisted. ‘You’re human now. Humans do holidays at least one time. But only if you’re okay with it.’

‘I’m okay with it,’ Castiel nodded with another shrug. ‘If there’s a place we could go we should … if you want to.’

‘It’s not that I _want_ to,’ Dean scoffed. ‘It’s that … I just … can’t be bothered cooking shit. But you should still get to get … uh … the right kinda thing that you have on that day.’ Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. ‘And besides, it’d be good for our cover. Looking … like a couple.’

Playing it cool, sure. More like playing it like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. Making excuses to do stuff with Cas.

 _Not like it’s the first time_ _you’ve done that, is it?_

Fuck. This. FUCK.

‘Then we should do it,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Right, I’ll … uh … find a place,’ Dean replied, clearing his throat. ‘Online. Then I’ll … call. Make a booking.’

Because if he said reservation then it would totally sound like a real date which it absolutely fucking positively was not.

‘Great,’ Castiel smiled at him. ‘I’m gonna get back to reading.’

‘You … you do that,’ Dean nodded stiffly, turning back to his screen.

It’s not like it was new information. The whole being in love with Cas thing. Like, he’d known. For years. He didn’t know when he’d figured it out, but he’d known. This was just the first time he’d openly acknowledged it to himself. It was gonna be fucking hard to put this back to the back of his mind. How was he supposed to act _now_?

_The same way you’ve acted for years, stupid. Nothing’s changed. You’re just more aware now._

That was true. He’d been able to act cool for years. Repress his urges, most of the time. He would just carry on like nothing was wrong.

‘I found one where you don’t need to book it in advance,’ Dean called over to Cas, reading off the screen. ‘Not exactly traditional. It’s an all you can eat thing any time from four until one in the morning on the Sunset Strip. There’s music and a TV and for both of us it’s just fourteen dollars. Combined.’

‘We should go,’ Castiel supported. ‘It seems … doable.’

‘Yeah, it does,’ Dean agreed. ‘Alright. I’ll write it down so we don’t forget.’

Thank fuck.

He’d thought they’d have to have a one and one romantic dinner by candle light or some shit. This was better. This was easy. It’s not awkward unless you make it awkward, just like it’s not weird unless you make it weird. And this still reflected well on them as a fake couple, because they were still going out together, like a date, but they knew it wasn’t.

He glanced over at Cas again, reading his book, enjoying it, looking relaxed and comfortable, and Dean suddenly felt himself calm down. Nothing had to change. Everything was the exact same as it had been ten minutes ago.

Dean shut down his computer again and went over to take his seat next to Cas, settling in and resting his arm across the top of the sofa, his eyes on the TV. He’d probably watched more TV in the last two days than in the last two months, and he hadn’t even watched that much.

Dean looked at Cas again, smiling lazily at him.

 _I love you_.

That was the only time he’d ever put it into those words, and it would remain inside his own head until they day he died. Or, uh, died _again_.

Castiel sensed Dean’s gaze and looked up from his book.

‘What?’ he asked, frowning under the intensity of the eyes boring into his. The look made tension rise in Cas’s chest, and he had a urge to break their eye contact by lunging forward and kissing Dean.

But that would have been weird and it would make things all kinds of awkward. Even having the thought made him feel awkward.

But he remembered something Dean had said to him, “it’s not weird unless we make it weird.”

‘Nothing, sorry,’ Dean replied, shaking his head and snapping his eyes away. ‘You’re pretty.’

It took Cas a second to realize it had meant Dean had been blanking out, not that he was just calling him pretty again, and then he chuckled at the fact that they had a shared joke now that they were making semi-frequently.

He liked this. The joking, the ease and the being able to resist the urge to do something stupid and make things awkward.

But then again, to slightly change and quote Dean’s one-time advice, it’s not awkward unless you make it awkward.


	13. GOD HATES YOU.

They were bringing guns with them into the walls in case anything showed up.

Guns, salt, a selection of bullets made of different materials, some knives and some flashlights.

They had to be safe, because by now they didn’t know what they were dealing with.

‘You ready?’ Dean asked, very tempted to make an excuse to touch Cas by straightening the multi-slot holster attached to his belt which held his gun and two knives. But considering the … placement of the general belt region, maybe that’d be a step too far.

‘Of course,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘Are we going?’

Dean nodded. They turned in the direction of the door.

The parking lot was eerie and quiet at night, the dull lights not helping matters much, as they approached the door Dean had pointed out earlier. Looking around them with caution, they went at a steady pace, but one that was slower than normal. If they were spotted here, they were screwed.

The door blended into the wall well, a heavy grey color. It looked to be made of some kind of metal that had faded. Dean put his hand into his pocket to find his lock pick, seeing the chains, until he saw the lock which made him pull his hand back out.

‘It’s been back here.’

The lock was broken in two; it looked like it had been snapped apart by something stronger than it was, although it was hard to tell what. Dean picked up the lock and examined it, handed it to Cas who examined it, but their exchanged look was as confused as ever.

‘Do you think it’s in there?’ Castiel asked.

‘Maybe,’ Dean muttered, nodding. ‘Only one way to find out. Flashlights on.’

They both turned on their flashlights as Dean unlatched the bolt the lock had been keeping latched and pulled the door open, heavy and thick and stiff.

The smell that greeted them was like tsunami washing over them, so strong it almost knocked them backwards, and it was obvious from first glance that the stairs leading up were coated the black substance that stunk of rot and decay and _death_. It was thick, in an enormous volume, the smell worse for having been in an enclosed space.

‘Is there any way of getting up there without … stepping in it?’ Castiel asked meekly, looking at the goo in disgust and taking a step back from the doorway.

‘You don’t have the hidden ability to walk up walls, do you?’ Dean asked, feebly joking.

‘As much as I wish we could simply walk the walls, I don’t,’ Castiel replied. ‘That ability vanished with the rest of my powers,’ he added sarcastically. ‘You know, the ability to be a _fly_.’

‘Or a spider,’ Dean suggested.

‘Any insect, really,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Or … almost any. Most winged ones. Although I say insect when in actuality spiders are arachnids, hence the term arachnophobia over something like “spiderphobia” or something like–’

‘Stalling so we don’t have to step in that so soon?’

‘Is it that obvious?’

‘Yeah, pretty obvious. But there’s no getting out of this,’ Dean groaned, closing his eyes. ‘So follow me.’

Dean took a step forward, bracing himself, as his foot squelched loudly on the steps. When Dean was a few steps in, Castiel followed, shutting the door behind him, trapping them in with the small which gradually began to worsen.

When they reached the top, meaning they were now on the ground floor, there was a ladder to their immediate left, which led to the second floor, and there was a stretch of (thankfully) mostly clean ground ahead of them, which they walked along, flashlights on the walls and the floor alike. It wasn’t a particularly wide area, but it was straight for a time – probably the length of the lobby – and then it dipped left, marking the shape of the apartments on the first floor.

Castiel noticed what was on the wall before Dean did.

‘Dean,’ Castiel called in a strained voice as he saw the word, illuminated by his flashlight, big on the wall written in that same black goo.

“UNNATURAL”

‘So it’s … literate,’ Dean said slowly.

‘And bigoted,’ Castiel added bitterly.

‘See anything else around here?’

‘Nothing. We should keep moving.’

Dean nodded, and so they did.

It was quiet, almost ominously so. They didn’t speak as they treaded forward, the smell stronger in some places than others, but their noses had become deadened to it. Here and there, there was a smear of the goo on the floor or on the walls, and an occasional choice word of offence here and there.

Eventually, they hit a dead end. The wall hollow didn’t go the whole way around the back of the building, and evidentially wasn’t on the right side either, just the left.

They turned back, and Castiel was in front now. They were able to pick up their pace a little as they made the journey back towards the ladder, which they were forced to climb to the second floor. The ladder was disgusting, covered in the goo which they were forced to get on their hands and then wipe on their clothes.

The patch of space leading to steady ground on the second floor was plenty big enough for them to get through as they continued their journey. “GOD HATES GAYS” was written in huge letters along a wall, which Castiel didn’t comment on. He didn’t need to; he and Dean both knew it was untrue. When they reached the end of this floor, they discovered the hollows at the end apartment. There was no hollows on the first floor below them.

‘So this is where whatever it was knocked on our wall but … a few floors higher,’ Dean observed, touching the wall in the hollow, smeared with streaks of goo like fingers being dragged down the wall like scratches. ‘Pretty fucked up …’

‘That’s an understatement,’ Castiel muttered. ‘Come on … there’s nothing here. We should get back to the ladder.’

Dean nodded, so they headed back in the direction they’d come, to get back to the ladder that was unbroken as it lead up through all the floors.

The third floor was as deserted as the first two, but no less touched by whatever it was that was living in the walls. The words written on the walls were generally repetitive, including several “NO”s in the third floor hollow, along with several hand prints. The fourth floor was the same as the third, but messier with goo, the hand prints more like hand smears, frantic, the writing nearly illegible until they got to the deepest hollow, where the largest and steadiest message yet was written.

In blood.

The knife was on the floor, the blood as red as any human’s.

“GOD HATES YOU.”

God hates you, period. As if the message were directed at anyone who saw it rather than it just being a general statement or threat. The blood looked far more threatening than the black goo did. Castiel took a step back, swallowing nervously and Dean stepped close to him, looking wary. Neither of them knew what to say, or whether they should speak at all.

Castiel was forced to look away. He knew the words weren’t directed at him _specifically_ , just at the people in the building in general, but they stung. Because for all he knew, God _did_ hate him. He knew nothing about God or whether God even cared about heaven, but if he did he was guaranteed to hate him.

‘Cas …’ Dean said slowly.

‘I know,’ Castiel said steadily. ‘I know it’s just … let’s keep going.’

Castiel pushed his way past Dean and out of the hollow, on route back towards the ladder to get to the fifth floor, and Dean followed warily after, _knowing_ something about that message had hit Cas the wrong way and frankly it didn’t sit right with him either, but still they were about as close to finding out who wrote it was they had been when they first arrived.

The search of the walls yielded about as much as the search the previous nigh had. There was ten floors of goo and messages and not a single object to be seen other than the knife by the message in blood. They searched the place again on the way back down, but there was still nothing. Not a soul to be seen or heard, the only noises their breathing, footsteps and the occasion squelch as they stood in the goo.

By the time they got back out and shut the door behind them, they stank and were covered in the goo; it was all over their shoes, on the ends of their jeans, the sides of their legs and arms and their hands, though wiped clean of it, reeked of it.

‘So we found nothing, _and_ we need to do laundry tomorrow,’ Dean grumbled as they trudged back to the car, scraping their shoes as they did to get as much of the goo off of the bottom of them as they could. ‘Fucking great.’

‘And I don’t know about you but I’m going to shower,’ Castiel added, looking down at himself in distaste. ‘I can’t wait until morning. This is disgusting.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean agreed angrily, beginning to put his knives and gun back into the trunk, Castiel copying him.

‘You can go first,’ Cas offered. ‘I’ll clean off our shoes.’

‘That’s generous of you,’ Dean told him, flashing a smile despite how pissed he was. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You’re the one who tripped and fell in that stuff. You need it more, Dean; you stink.’

‘Thanks for the compliment,’ Dean replied sarcastically.

‘You’re welcome.’

They left the car, heading for the elevator, which they stepped into when it arrived, not talking as they waited. They picked up once the doors had closed behind them.

‘Maybe the thing doesn’t live in there all the time,’ Castiel theorized.

‘Maybe,’ Dean agreed. ‘But I don’t like this. It’s creepy, man. And that knife and the blood …’

‘That made me uncomfortable,’ Castiel admitted. ‘More uncomfortable than anything else there. The message … how it was written. _Where_ it was written.’

‘It’s just a coincidence, Cas,’ Dean reminded him.

‘I know,’ Castiel promised, ‘I know. But there’s something … not right about it. It felt …’

‘Directly targeted?’

‘Yeah. That.’ Castiel sighed heavily. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter.’

The elevator stopped on the first floor and they stopped talking as a young woman stepped in. She was very beautiful, with long dark hair she was wearing a snowy white dress that hit the floor, but the end was torn up and dirty. She wasn’t wearing shoes or socks.

Her smile was sly, her eyes mischievous. She looked to be … Japanese, possibly. Her hair was dark as raven and her eyes dark as onyx, more black than brown. Her teeth were very white, and her skin tone very pale.

‘Which floor?’ Dean asked politely, since he was standing right next to the buttons.

‘Ten,’ she replied in a soft voice. ‘Usually I travel five to ten. Today I made an exception.’

‘Ten it is,’ Dean nodded, hitting the button.

The woman, very young and graceful, didn’t speak again as they ascended to the fourth floor. When Dean and Castiel got off, she wished them a goodnight, her smile coy yet wicked as she twiddled her fingers at them in a wave.

‘Friendly,’ Castiel commented, once they were out of ear shot.

‘Her dress was a mess, though,’ Dean frowned. ‘Wonder what happened?’

Castiel shrugged. They didn’t speak of her again.

When they reached their apartment it was like they’d reached Utopia. Dean pulled off his jacket and his flannel at once, leaving him just in his t-shirt. Castiel too removed his jacket and held it gingerly away from him to avoid getting any more goo on himself. They each removed their shoes before they got into the bedroom.

‘I won’t be long,’ Dean promised, the two of them heading for the closet where the laundry basket was, tossing in the clothes they’d removed. ‘Partly for you. Partly because I want to get to bed. It’s been a hell of a day.’

It had, too. Walking for hours outdoors, and then two hours inside foul smelling walls, leaving it past midnight now.

‘I’ll set it up for you,’ Castiel told him with a sigh, grabbing the things he slept in to change into when Dean was in the shower.

‘As usual,’ Dean joked.

‘Pretty much,’ Castiel agreed.

Dean laughed and grabbed the clothes he was going to change into and he disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as he heard the door lock, Castiel began to strip and change. His heart pounded a little when he realized he and Dean were likely changing at near enough the same time, with just a wall between them. He wondered what it would be like if the wall wasn’t there.

He plugged his phone in to charge and then grabbed Dean’s bed things to bring out to the main room. He set up the bed completely, rather than just pulling it out like he had on previous nights, and then he got to work on their shoes. It was only the outsides that needed cleaning so thankfully they didn’t need to be placed outside to dry; they wouldn’t have in the light drizzle that was falling, blowing inwards towards their glass wall and doors.

It took a while to get all of the gunk off of them and then wash his hands of the stuff, drying the surface of the shoes off with a paper towel afterwards. Once the shoes had been cleaned, Castiel left them down to close the curtains and then he brought the shoes into the bedroom.

Dean was closing the curtains in the bedroom when Castiel entered.

‘Just getting these for you,’ Dean told him helpfully. ‘Thought I’d do something to repay you for many nights of bed-setup and tonight’s shoe-clean.’

‘I don’t need repayment,’ Castiel chuckled, though he was grateful, as he placed their shoes in the closet. He noted Dean had placed the rest of his clothes in the laundry basket too, socks and underwear included. More than one pair, actually, so probably what he’d worn since they the last basket of laundry that would have been saved until the next one anyway. Also in there were the clothes he’d been sleeping in. He turned his eyes away and closed the closet.

When he looked at Dean, he wondered if he was wearing any underwear _now_. Probably. But also possibly not.

Castiel suddenly wondered whether he was supposed to wash his own socks and underwear individually or just throw them in with the rest. Though, luckily, Dean answered his question with a tease before Cas had even begun to try and fathom how to voice it.

‘I’m gonna do laundry tomorrow morning,’ Dean started. ‘So anything you want to throw in you should do it now. I won’t do anything weird to any of your underwear, I swear,’ he winked.

Cas knew the wink was a joke. But it still made him want to jump out of his own skin and do a summersault or thirty.

‘I trust you,’ Castiel replied coolly, a small part of him reminding himself that their ease with this type of thing came with their conversation from the night before an that pleased him. He wondered if the constant validation he had sought had come hand in hand with the whole being in love with Dean thing.

‘You sure about that?’ Dean challenged.

‘I’m sure,’ Castiel replied slowly. ‘I’ve heard of itching powder and I can look it up and find out what it looks like. I’m not going to fall victim to one of your pranks like I’ve heard Sam has.’

By the “anything weird” Cas had kinda hoped he meant in like … a sexy way. But the logical part of his brain nudged him towards the prank area of things.

‘I’m all out of itching powder anyway,’ Dean told him, with a fake disappointed sigh. ‘Maybe I’ll buy a snake at a pet store for next time. Sneak it in there unnoticed.’

‘Yes, _tell_ your plans to the person you’re going to prank,’ Castiel replied with a roll of his eyes. ‘That’s _so_ smart.’

‘Damn it,’ Dean muttered. There was a pause before the two of them laughed small laughs and then Dean said, ‘so I guess this is goodnight.’

‘I guess so,’ Castiel agreed.

There was a slightly awkward pause. Dean shuffled his feet.

‘It was a good day, wasn’t it?’ Dean asked. ‘Apart from the … wall part.’

‘It was,’ Castiel smiled, nodding. ‘I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet. So … thank you. For everything.’

The everything could include just the day, or it could include _everything._ Everything that made Cas love Dean, and everything that made him realize it.

‘You’re welcome,’ Dean replied with heavy sincerity. ‘Night, Cas.’

Dean’s smile was small and gentle and made Cas’s entire body begin to radiate with love so much that he was surprised Dean couldn’t see it on his skin like a glow.

‘Goodnight, Dean.’

Dean placed his hand on Cas’s shoulder as he passed by him and patted him on the back of it, stretching his arm behind him to do so. As Castiel watched him leave, he found himself wishing, _don’t go_.

But of course, Dean had to go, and Cas had to deal with it and go into the bathroom and forget about it, which was hard to do because the bathroom was still warm from the steam of Dean’s shower and the smell of his deodorant still lingered in the air.

Cas really should start appreciating how Dean smelled more, attractive and manly and musky, he thought as he pulled off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor by the door, sweats and underwear soon following as he stepped into the shower and turned on the water.

Ah yes, the shower Dean had only recently vacated, but had previously been in naked and warm and wet and _oh fuck a boner._

The roots of this had probably been planted in his brain as soon a she saw Dean’s underwear and wondered if he was wearing any. Probably amplified when Dean touched his shoulder. Even more amplified by the memory of climbing ladders behind Dean with Dean’s ass pretty close to his face. Or the other way around. And he’d brushed shoulders with Dean a lot, too, in the walls. And they’d bumped into each other a few times when one unexpectedly stopped after spotting another message on the wall.

So the fact that he was now naked in the place that Dean had just been naked was only the tip of the iceberg.

It wasn’t exactly news to Cas that as well as being in love with Dean he was attracted to him. He’d literally gone into full blown fantasy mode in the car earlier, and certain less than pure thoughts about Dean in the past, rare as they were before he was human, had hinted at it too.

He did feel a little bad for thinking about Dean in such a way behind his back, but then again he wasn’t about to tell him he was in love with him either.

He supposed he’d better get rid of this thing before he went to sleep otherwise it would be a distraction. It’s not like Dean would ever know. And it’s not like Cas was _thinking_ about Dean as he took hold of himself slowly and began what had become familiar to him. Although technically he was. _Technically_.

He was just _technically_ wondered if Dean had, at any point, done what he was doing now where he was doing it. Or if he would at some point. And whether he thought about men or women. Or both. Or whether he thought about anything at all.

He wondered if he’d ever done it while watching gay porn like Cas had. It was no secret Dean watched _a lot_ of porn. Mostly stuff with women. But maybe some with men?

And now he was thinking about Dean having _sex_ with men. And he thought about the things he’d researched on that matter, wondering whether Dean was generally on the giving or receiving end of things. Judging by the way Dean seemed to be with women, he’d think the giving, but when he thought of Dean around men … blushy, shy, a little clumsy, as far as he’d seen when he thought on it, thinking about the past years.

Dean probably liked to be pinned down and bent over with someone else in control for a change. He put on such an in-charge alpha-male front most of the time that it _had_ to be hiding another side of him.

Or perhaps Castiel was just hoping that side of Dean existed because Castiel would like to bend Dean over and take charge were they to be in that situation. He’d always enjoyed it when Dean, or anyone really, did what he told them to.

He wondered if having sex with a man felt different to having sex with a woman.

Facial hair and more body hair and bigger muscles and a different hole altogether to put it in. Bigger hands and stronger arms and green eyes and freckles.

Okay so that was Dean, then.

Dean standing in front of him and slowly getting undressed.

Dean standing before him in nothing but his underwear.

Castiel helping Dean _remove_ said underwear.

He wondered what Dean looked like without any clothes and what size things were down there. The internet generally seemed to be of the opinion that bigger was preferred, and so had what he’d heard in his years on Earth. Even subtle comments from Dean here and there he’d noticed seemed to imply that things were better bigger.

Castiel looked down at himself for a moment and thought, _not bad._ In fact, he was pretty well endowed himself in comparison the pictures and videos he’d seen on the internet.

He hoped Dean could measure up to him. He liked how _big_ he felt in his hand and imagined Dean felt even better.

He imagined Dean’s hand felt even better than his own, too, and that thought, that imagine was what it took to send him over the edge, the evidence washing swiftly down the drain.

Castiel took several deep breaths and leaned against the wall as he regained the strength in his legs. He let himself settle and calm, and then he grabbed the body wash and his sponge and began to rid himself of the night’s stink and of his unpure but not unwelcome thoughts in one.

Just for the hell of it, Castiel didn’t bother putting his underwear back on and left them and his shirt on the floor by the bed. The shirt he would put back on when he got up. Then new underwear when he got dressed. He wasn’t even that hot tonight, he just liked the feeling of the sheets on his skin and he liked the thought of Dean waking up first and coming in for his clothes and seeing him without a shirt if that were to happen. He wondered if Dean had bothered to look this morning when he hadn’t been wearing one.

He suddenly remembered the laundry basket, and got up again to add his accumulated socks and underwear pile. He generally wore socks for a day, underwear for a day and a night.

But screw the night. He’d get some satisfaction from Dean waking up first and seeing him sleeping with no shirt, and little would he know, no underwear either.

As much as he’d hated Dean thinking of him sleeping, showing weakness by doing so a few days ago, now it was quite the opposite. He knew sleeping _wasn’t_ weakness and that Dean seeing him wasn’t bad at all. He _wanted_ Dean to see him. He wanted Dean to see him when he fell asleep and when he woke up.

He wanted Dean to be next to him, but rightside up and under the covers unlike the last time.

He really really really loved Dean.

He was glad Dean wasn’t an angel because if he was he could probably sense his longing.

He recalled, many times, sensing _Dean’s_ longing. His longing for his friend, of course. He didn’t feel the way Cas did.

Cas missed Dean’s longing, and Dean’s prayers. He missed being able to flit to Dean’s side at any time and being able to help Dean in ways better than wading through inches of gunk inside of the walls of a building inhabited by blue haired lesbians and Japanese women in torn up dresses. He missed the times when he didn’t need guns and knives to defend the two of them, all he’d needed was his powers.

He fell asleep after pulling out his other pillow and placing it next to him with one arm thrown across it, still thinking about the days when he could help with little limitation.

Dean woke up mid-morning with his pillow screwed into a ball with his head on the corner of it, the rest scrunched up in his hands like he’d been twisting it in his sleep. The first thing he did was smooth that out. He wasn’t one for creased or screwed up pillows or duvets or even fitted sheets, for that matter. And then he collapsed back down onto his back to stretch and attempt to wake himself up a little more.

Another day to fill, another day to be completely clueless about this case and another day to be in love with Cas.

Laundry was first thing on the agenda. Laundry, then … yeah. Laundry was first thing on the agenda.

Laundry, and being in love with Cas.

And he ought to let Sam know about last night ASAP.

He climbed out of bed and covered it back over, smoothing it out neatly, and headed towards the curtains opening the right and then left as he always did. He wasn’t sure why, maybe it was because he was right handed.

So today, today, today.

Maybe they could hit up another tourist attraction. Or maybe they could take a break day and stay local. Maybe check out the garden out back of the building. Wander the streets for places they hadn’t noticed while driving around or grocery shopping. It wouldn’t take a day, but it’d take some of it.

Dean poured coffee into the coffee maker, nodding to himself in satisfaction as he thought of his short-term plan suggestion.

Ah, yes. A walk through the gardens with Cas at his side, touching and laughing for show because hey, they were supposed to be a _couple_ after all. Maybe a leaf could accidentally end up on Cas’s shoulder and he could brush it off for longer than necessary. Or maybe a branch could tickle Cas’s face, and he could brush that away and accidentally graze his fingers over Cas’s cheek.

‘Hey,’ said Cas.

‘Garden!’ Dean yelped.

‘… What?’

‘Harden,’ Dean coughed. ‘Harden. Hardening, I thought the coffee was, but it’s not. Hardening. It’s fine. Hello, hey, good morning.’

How Dean would love to be some of that coffee being ground through the machine to escape what was possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever said. But no, he had to feel his heart beating and is face reddening as Castiel stared at him in bewilderment, slowly taking out a bowl without looking at it to keep his puzzled gaze on Dean’s awkwardly smiling face.

‘Are you … sure you’re awake?’ Castiel asked slowly.

‘I’m sure,’ Dean nodded, swallowing nervously. ‘And I didn’t say harden. I said garden. Sorry I was just being … an idiot.’

‘So … you were just being yourself, then.’

Dean glanced at Cas’s smug face, a hint of a smirk to flavor the smugness.

‘Fuckin’ rude,’ Dean muttered, following Cas’s lead and grabbing a bowl for cereal, but without looking so he could see Cas’s face turn so blissfully at ease as he gave his reply.

‘Not rude. Just factual.’

‘Fuck off,’ Dean muttered grumpily, turning away and concentrating on fixing himself a bowl of cereal, Cas doing the same thing so close to him they were practically rubbing elbows.

‘So why exactly did you deem “garden” an appropriate response to “hey?”’ Castiel asked curiously, whipping away from his bowl in a flash and grabbing the milk from the fridge, which he handed to Dean when he was done with it. ‘Is that some new way of greeting people that I don’t know about or was I interrupting your thoughts that for some reason have something to do with gardens?’

‘I was thinking about what we could do today,’ Dean replied evenly, trying to get on some kind of normal track and not make a _complete_ buffoonery of himself quite so early in the morning. ‘And I thought we could take a day off from being tourists. Alternate days, you know. So I thought maybe … we could check out the gardens Harri mentioned on the first day. It’d be good to be seen. Acting like a couple and all that.’

‘We could hold hands,’ Castiel suggested, his hopes perking up. ‘And walk around.’

‘You could bring your book,’ Dean added, handing the milk back to Cas as he held out a hand for it to return it to the fridge. ‘Hell, we both could. We’re writers. So we read. Together. Because we’re a couple.’

‘Yes, exactly,’ Castiel nodded confidently, heading for the table as Dean made to pour them both coffee now the pot was ready.

‘And we could go out and walk around the area, too,’ Dean continued his suggestion of plans for the day. ‘If you want. Something to do. Maybe … rent a movie for this evening? But just one. And grab takeout. Oh, and at some point I want to beat your ass at ping pong again.’

‘You didn’t beat me, Dean,’ Castiel replied with a roll of his eyes. ‘We drew because we’re both equally terrible.’

‘Fine. Then I want to beat your ass at ping pong, period.’

‘No, Dean,’ Castiel sighed condescendingly, ‘ _I’m_ going to beat _your_ ass.’

Dean almost choked on his cereal. At this point it wasn’t exactly shocking to hear Cas say that, but he was completely taking it out of context upon first inspection of the words. He tried to put on that brave and slightly flirtatious face as he replied, ‘beat my ass at ping pong or … just in general?’

‘At ping pong,’ Castiel replied slowly, and Dean’s heart jolted when he saw an undertone of something else in Cas’s suddenly extremely dominant-looking eyes. ‘Of course.’

‘Alright, fine. I’m open to you beating my ass,’ Dean replied casually, purposefully leaving off the “at ping pong.” ‘But only because I know it’ll never happen.’

Partly because Cas sucked at ping pong. Partly because when it came to the alternative and sexy kind of ass-beating, he knew that would never happen. There would be no Cas drilling him down into the mattress. Not now, not ever.

And there would be no thinking about Cas’s dick in his ass at the breakfast table, god damn it.

Maybe later he could excuse himself for a while and think about it then. He felt surprisingly less guilty at that thought than he usually did, almost like admitting to himself that he was in love with Cas suddenly made it okay.

A piece of cereal got stuck to Cas’s lower lip and Cas got it with his tongue.

 _Shove your tongue up my fucking ass_ , Dean whimpered.

He wasn’t going to shower this morning because that would be just stupid after showing so late last night, but maybe he could spend a few extra minutes getting dressed. Pretend he’d … uh … well, he’d figure it out. None of the usual excuses Dean gave to Sam when they were staying in motels together because “I blocked the toilet” or “I was doing some personal grooming, need me to prove it you nosy asshole?” weren’t things he wanted to say to the man he was _in love with_.

Though the excuse “I got distracted on my phone” could be viable. His nerdy ass brother had convinced him to download that stupid Candy Crush game and it was actually damn addictive at times and came in as useful entertainment when he was gonna be in the bathroom for a while and not for something as fun as what he had planned for later.

Maybe that could lead to Dean showing Cas the game. Teaching him how to play it, helping him out at the beginning. They’d have to sit pretty close together. Maybe accidentally touch fingers if they tried to tap the screen at the same time.

Excellent.

They finished their breakfast together in comfortable silence. When they’d finished, Dean grabbed the dishes and said, ‘you can get dressed and whatever first this morning. I’ll do the dishes.’

Castiel nodded and stood up, smiling at Dean in thanks as he passed him, Dean smiling back while hoping his love for Cas wasn’t literally written in his eyes because that’s what it felt like. But then again, it had probably been written there for years, Dean was just acknowledging it now.

Having had Cas by his side during the last two times he’d either washed or dried dishes, doing it alone was almost a little lonely. The running water’s splash sounded dull without Cas there to lighten things up, and Dean dreaded to think of how it would feel when he could no longer see Cas every day.

He called Sam when he finished the dishes, and Sam hadn’t got anything helpful to say.

‘All you can do is keep an eye out for anything weird,’ Sam said determinedly, as if Dean didn’t already know that. He hadn’t seemed that bothered by the messages in the walls, not even the one written in blood. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen how daunting they were in person, and how creepy they looked with the gripping goo and the running paths of blood.

And then, Sam had started asking questions about Cas. Had Dean heard from him or made contact with him since he last asked, how was he, did he seem like he was doing okay, was Dean going to pay him a visit once the case was over just to check up on him. Dean tried to answer them as best as he could, but each answer just led to more questions.

‘And what else did he tell you about the customer with the blue hair?’ Sam probed, when Dean made up a story using one of their neighbors as the character of a customer Cas had told him about.

‘I don’t know, Sam,’ Dean replied frustrated. ‘I didn’t memorize every word he said. It’s not like I’m in love with the guy or something.’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Sam replied.

Lies had details, Dean had to remember. So he had to keep his fake-conversations with Cas that he told Sam about vague, and he had to make it sound like he didn’t really care.

Dean was still on the phone with Sam when Castiel walked out, eyebrows raised, and sat down on the edge of Dean’s bed next to him, where Dean had sat, previously figuring he’d be off the phone soon and could put it away; he’d already pushed off the duvet and pillows before he’d realized Sam was in a chatty mood and he couldn’t do things one handed.

‘I _will_ ,’ Dean stressed, groaning. ‘Yeah. I’ll check up on him on the way back. We’ll grab lunch or something.’ There was a pause in which Castiel watched Dean, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas in reference to Sam in a way that made Cas want to laugh. ‘Of course I’m not going to make him fucking pay. The guy’s on minimum wage, Sam.’ More pissed off looks as Sam chatted back into Dean’s ear. ‘Because he told me. How else would I fucking know? Look, listen–’ Dean sighed in frustration. ‘I have to go. The guy I’m working with will be back soon. Yeah, I will. Okay. Right. Bye.’

Dean finally hung up and placed his hand over his face for a moment, groaning low and then it amped up into loudly as Castiel watched in acute amusement.

‘Good talk?’

‘I think Sam’s in love with you,’ Dean declared.

‘He’s not my type,’ Castiel replied timidly. ‘Too tall.’

‘I’ll let him know.’ Dean sighed. ‘Right. I need to get dressed.’

‘I’ll finish this off,’ Castiel told him, gesturing the bed they were sitting on as Dean stood up and grabbed the stuff he’d pulled off onto the floor. ‘Not for you or anything. I just need the couch. It’s a little damp looking outside so I don’t feel like going out there to read. I’m hoping it dries up before you and I venture out to the gardens.’

‘Hey, it’s winter, but it’s California,’ Dean shrugged. ‘It’ll heat up and dry up in no time.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

Dean left, briefly marveling in the fact that Castiel had strutted (well, not exactly strutted, but whatever) right over and sat down next to him on his bed. He didn’t wait to be asked, he didn’t linger standing somewhere and he didn’t decide to sit somewhere else. He sat next to _Dean_. On his _bed_. On _his_ bed.

He’d rather he were _in_ his bed, but no matter.

Castiel watched Dean leave and then got up to tuck the bed away. He fixed the rug and the coffee table, sat on the sofa and read about a chapter, and then decided to fix himself a mug of hot chocolate to accompany his reading, but when he pulled out the milk he discovered they were low on it which he hadn’t noticed this morning, too distracted by Dean being weird and cute. He figured he’d go out and get some, to save them the trouble of doing it later.

He left a note for Dean, using the notepad and pen that Dean kept on the kitchen table, telling him where he was and what he was doing and that he wouldn’t be long. Then he went into the bedroom to grab his wallet, which he kept on his bedside table. He figured that he’d do without his jacket on this short trip, rather than putting it on despite it being soiled with disgusting gunk.

And then Castiel paused when he heard a soft, almost involuntary moan followed by a hiss coming from the bathroom.

Castiel’s mind immediately jumped to a conclusion that couldn’t possibly be true, but … also could be true.

Was Dean … was he actually … was he _masturbating_ in there?

Because that moan sounded a lot like one that came of pleasure and the soft hiss sounded like the one one of the guys in the porn Cas had watched had sucked in through his teeth as he came at the end.

Cas felt an immediate reaction at the thought of it and left the bedroom at once, attempting to calm himself, because he’d literally just relived this kind of tension last night and he had milk to buy right now.

The fact, though, that many times he’d wondered if Dean had done it in there, or if he would, had now been confirmed, gave him a deep satisfaction. And the fact that this morning Cas had stood with Dean and sat across from Dean while wearing no underwear satisfied him too.

Pushing it out of head and therefore managing to calm his physical reaction, Castiel double checked his note, made sure he had his keys and left the apartment, locking the door again behind him.

It was still early, so the building was quiet. There were a few people in the lobby when Cas reached it, all of them unfamiliar, and only one nodded at him so he nodded back, and then he was out onto the streets which were considerably busier than the building, yet the trip went quickly and Cas was returning with milk in no time, only to get back to a note at the end of his note saying Dean had brought down the laundry to wash.

Now that there was sufficient milk to replace the last drop in the carton that Cas had planned to use in hot chocolate, he went about his earlier plan of making it and then taking it over to continue his reading, which was soon interrupted yet again by Dean’s return.

‘Get the milk?’ Dean greeted, bringing the empty laundry basket in and placing it on the table, surveying Cas happily, although Dean was a little disappointed Cas had gone out; Cas being out meant Cas hadn’t known Dean spent longer than usual in the bathroom which meant no excuse to show him that Candy Crush game which meant no sitting close together and accidental finger touches.

‘In the fridge,’ Castiel replied, closing the book as Dean went over to sit next to him, Dean formulating a plan, an excuse to show Cas the app at some point.

‘Can I have a sip of that?’ Dean asked.

Castiel nodded, gesturing a “go ahead” with a sweep of his hand towards his drink, resisting the urge to smile as he thought about the fact that he and Dean were at the stage where they could drink from each others’ beverages now.

‘Are the clothes in the washer or dryer?’ Castiel asked, presenting Dean with a decent opportunity to mention the app, and get in a playful comment on something, too.

‘Washer,’ Dean told him. ‘Maybe they’d be in the dryer by now if I hadn’t gotten distracted by my phone in the bathroom. There’s this app … I’ll show you later.’

 _Okay, sure_ , Castiel thought sarcastically. _Playing on your phone. That’s what you were doing._

‘Alright,’ Castiel replied lightly.

‘So,’ Dean began, going in for the playful comment, ‘you’re a boxers guy.’

Castiel felt his heart do something akin to a twist-flip and felt a tightness in his throat. So beverage sharing and underwear discussing. Right. Okay. He could deal with this, being casual as he always was.

‘I tried out boxer briefs,’ Castiel told him honesly, ‘but they didn’t fit right. They were too big in some places and too small in others.’

‘“Too small in others,’” Dean quoted slowly. ‘ _Interesting_.’

Castiel got what Dean was implying and knew he was just teasing him for his wording, but part of him wanted to imply that his wording _was_ how it sounded to Dean. Though that would be crossing a line into a side of things he didn’t think it would be wise to touch on, because even if, to him, he felt like it was jokingly boasting, to Dean it might be going too far. He didn’t want to look like he was trying to make a move on him or anything, or make him uncomfortable.

‘Too small in the legs,’ Castiel replied smoothly, throwing in an annoyed look as he went just to further support his false-annoyance at Dean’s joke. ‘Or too big in the waistband when fitting in the legs. Get your mind out of the gutter, Dean.’

Dean falsely sighed.

‘Disappointing,’ he stated.

Castiel was loving every single second of Dean’s joking nature which was a little … no. No, it couldn’t be. Or if it was, it was still just a joke. Poking fun. _Having_ fun. Two friends, having fun, yes. That’s what it was, so Castiel could get on board with it.

‘Is that supposed to be a flirtation?’ Castiel challenged, raising his eyebrows and giving Dean a look pretending that he wasn’t impressed by it.

‘Do you want it to be?’ Dean retorted, smirking, with what was _definitely_ a flirty face. Castiel recognized the signs, and the face too, from him seeing Dean pull that face at others.

 _Yes_ , Castiel wanted to hiss, but he’d vowed to keep his feelings to himself, so he pretended he was over it and rolled his eyes, turning away from Dean to take a sip from his hot chocolate and ignore him. Apparently that had been the right way to react because Dean started laughing and when Cas had put his drink down, Dean clapped him on the shoulder.

‘I’m just messing with you, man,’ Dean laughed, practically radiating a happiness Cas rarely saw in him which was making it considerably more difficult to keep up his bored-of-it façade. ‘Trying to freak you out. Clearly, it didn’t work.’

‘You’re an idiot,’ Castiel stated.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean brushed off, rolling his eyes. ‘Here, I want to show you something.’

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, pulling up the Candy Crush app. He handed his phone to Cas, who took it and looked at the screen observantly.

‘What’s this?’ Castiel asked.

‘The app I got distracted on that I told you about,’ Dean explained. ‘I thought you might like it. You could download it and play it when you’re bored but haven’t got your book – might be a way to kill time in your motel after we get out of here. Or it could just be something to do during the day when we’re not doing anything here either.’

‘How do you play it?’ Castiel asked, looking at the levels and noting that Dean was on level forty one, so clearly Dean hadn’t just downloaded this as a would-be alibi for if Cas hadn’t gone out and Dean had been in the bathroom a while.

‘Let me show you,’ Dean said triumphantly, having hoped Cas would ask, closing the few inches between them on the couch, his shoulder now touching Cas’s.

‘Tap that little round thing with the number on – yeah, that, and you basically try to get three or more of the same color in a horizontal or vertical row – like this.’

Dean showed him and made a match, then another that came up quickly. Then Castiel spotted a third match and matched up a row of four, creating a striped candy, and that led to Dean explaining that to him, too.

They settled back into the sofa and Dean’s plan was going perfectly. They were still close together and occasionally their knees would touch, and as they both played the same level on the same screen, gloriously, their fingers accidentally touched twice when going for the same match. Castiel was good at strategizing whenever he created one of the special candies, without Dean having to mention it to him which was something he was happy about; whenever he watched Sam play and waste a stupid special candy straight away he wanted to punch him in the face because _no, there was an opportunity to cross that over with the other one if you could just get the other one next to it you fucking idiot_.

But with Cas he didn’t have that problem.

He downloaded the app onto Cas’s phone, too, while Cas busied himself with level forty two once they’d cleared the one before it together, Dean making many excuses to abuse their closeness and stare at Castiel’s face close up as his brow knitted in concentration, or the corners of his lips lifted in satisfaction and triumph.

Fuck, Cas was beautiful.

He had to quickly pull back to stop himself from doing something stupid. The sudden move didn’t go unnoticed.

‘Something wrong?’ Castiel asked.

‘Going to put the laundry in the dryer,’ Dean replied smoothly, getting to his feet and making a beeline for the basket on the kitchen table. ‘It should be done by now.’

‘I’m going to use up your last remaining life and then use up all of mine,’ Castiel told him, without looking away from Dean’s phone screen.

‘Have fun,’ Dean offered, laughing to himself as he left.

Dean walked the hallways in somewhat of a daze because _fucking hell his shoulder had been touching Cas for ten minutes and their fingers fucking touched_.

He wanted to touch Cas’s fingers _more_. He wanted to lace his through them, but for real, not for show. He wanted to feel them on his face, or his neck, or any other part of his body. He wanted to press his lips against Cas’s knuckles and hold his hand against his face.

He came out of his daze when he reached the elevator, which had to come down from the fifth floor, and in it was that woman he and Cas had encountered last night in the same dress with the end of it dirty, and no shoes. She smiled sweetly at him as she had last night, and asked him the floor he was going to and pressed the button for him. Dean noted she was going to the basement … with no shoes.

Well, to each their own. He wasn’t going to judge. Goodness knew that he only wore shoes all day out of courtesy to others around him, and socks were a fucking nightmare. He often walked around the bunker fully dressed with bare feet and it pissed Sam off a lot, so he’d never bothered getting slippers until living in the apartment with Cas, making the excuse that the floor was cold when in reality he just didn’t know Cas’s opinion on bare feet. Some people hated them and others were cool, like Dean. Unless said feet were fucking gross, then he wasn’t so cool.

Dean nodded at the woman as he exited the elevator and went to transfer the laundry from washer to dryer, which only took a moment. When he reached the lobby again, the woman from the elevator was back, but this time he could see her back retreating up the stairs. Huh. Maybe she’d changed her mind about whatever she’d been going to do.

Dean got in the elevator and surpassed her, and he was back in the apartment in no time. Castiel was still on the couch, on his own phone now. Dean went over and pocketed his own and grabbed the empty hot chocolate mug they’d both taken sips from until it was gone; Dean loved the fact that he got to share a mug with Cas, and that they were comfortable enough not to wipe the edge every time one took a sip after the other. Their mouths were touching the same thing. It was almost like kissing, but it was drinking and Jesus fucking Christ Dean was so desperate to kiss Cas that he was trying to fool himself into thinking that drinking from the same mug was as good as doing it?

He was pathetic. Not that it was anything new.

He took the mug to the sink and washed it, and then his hands, then he went to sit next to Cas again but with some distance so he didn’t do anything stupid like press his lips against Cas’s stubble covered jawline and feel the rough, scratchy hairs covering his skin on his lips, maybe rub his lips back and forth a little on Cas’s cheek …

He moved away another inch, watching Cas play from a distance.

‘Sam texted,’ Castiel informed Dean suddenly.

‘Me or you?’

‘Me.’

‘What did he say?’

‘I’ll check when I run out of lives.’

Dean chuckled, and focused his eyes on Cas’s phone.

Castiel was still in the early levels and clearing each one without a hitch, not losing any lives. It was peaceful to watch Cas play and difficult not to launch onto him and smother his stupid cute concentrated face in all the kisses he fucking deserved.

Soon, though, Cas began his unavoidable failure, and that was one life down.

Halfway through his next attempt at the level, there was a knock on the door so Dean left Cas to the game and answered the door himself, to find their next door neighbor, Dave, standing there.

Dean opened his mouth to greet him, but was cut off when Dave spoke first.

‘Your door,’ Dave stated. ‘I was on my way into my place and I noticed … your door. I thought … thought it best you know.’

Dean frowned and glanced at the door he’d just opened and felt his heart freeze in his chest.

There, on the door, was the same message the hollow of the wall bore, written in blood, fresh and dripping.

‘Thank you,’ Dean said, looking away and swallowing uncomfortably.

Dave nodded.

‘I’ll let you … deal with it,’ Dave said awkwardly, and Dean nodded and said ‘thanks again,’ closing the door as Dave walked away.

‘What is it?’ Castiel asked, without looking up from his phone.

“GOD HATES YOU.” In blood. On their door.

Castiel looking so carefree on the couch playing the game Dean had introduced him to.

‘Nothing,’ Dean lied. ‘Just … neighbor wants to borrow some cleaning stuff. I’ll take it to him now.’

‘I cleared the level,’ Castiel informed him, as Dean went to the cupboard under the sink for the stuff.

‘Well done,’ Dean replied, flashing a smile in Cas’s direction because Cas was looking at him. ‘Clear the next one, too.’

‘I will.’

Dean smiled again and took the cleaning stuff outside, closing the door behind him. With a sigh, he looked at the door and then thought of Cas inside, so innocent and peaceful and beautiful, both physically and as a person.

Dean didn’t understand how anything, no matter what kind of creature it was, could say such a disgusting thing about Cas. About himself, he could understand, but not Cas. Clearly the two of them were being targeted by this thing now, with this message and the blood and Dean knew if it continued he wouldn’t be able to keep it from Cas …

But he could damn well try.

He sprayed the door with cleaning product and started to wipe with a disposable dishcloth, getting rid of the foul red evidence on the door.

His mind was on Cas, and his heart was heavy as the red thinned and began to stain both the cloth and Dean’s fingers.

No one was going to hurt Cas, either emotionally or physically, if he had anything to do with it. _No one_.


	14. A Platonic Date

Dean tossed the dishcloth in the trash and put the cleaning stuff away, swiftly washing his hands afterwards, twice, because they smelled of bleach and blood. Castiel was now reading, his lives clearly used up, and he didn’t look when he asked, ‘what took you so long?’

‘Chatty neighbor,’ Dean lied easily, walking over and sitting next to Cas again. ‘Used up your lives?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded, ‘I made it to level seventeen. I would have made it farther but the app crashed three times and made me lose three lives because I was in-play when it crashed. I also used up those three pink lollipop things, and all of the gold bars I could spend.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Dean muttered.

‘No, I’m Castiel,’ Cas scoffed.

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ Dean agreed. ‘Jesus is back in Kansas. Get it? Because of Sam’s hair, and when he hasn’t shaved in a few days …’

‘I understand your joke, Dean,’ Castiel replied, rolling his eyes and closing his book. ‘There’s no need to explain. I’m not as dumb as you may think I look.’

‘I don’t think you look dumb,’ Dean disapproved, frowning as if the statement offended him. ‘I think you look _great_. And smart. Because you are smart, you’re the smartest person I know. Even above Sam. It’s just that my jokes can me a little lame and usually need explaining to people unless they’re _so_ bad that they’re obvious and just piss everyone off.’

‘Your jokes aren’t bad, Dean,’ Castiel frowned. ‘I think you’re funny … most of the time.’

‘And I think I’m hilarious,’ Dean agreed, ‘but other people don’t because their senses of humor are dryer than a nun’s vagina.’

‘Crude,’ Castiel replied. ‘Yet still funny, unless you’re a nun.’

‘I like you, you think I’m funny,’ Dean grinned. ‘I like you a _lot_.’

‘I would hope so,’ Castiel said crisply, ‘otherwise I don’t know what I’m doing here. It seems completely illogical to help someone who doesn’t like you, even if his brother is Jesus.’

‘Speaking of Jesus,’ Dean segwayed, ‘didn’t he text you?’

‘What?’ Castiel asked in confusion, and then he got it. ‘Oh! Right. Sam texted. I should check that.’

Dean watched patiently as Cas pulled out his phone and got up his messages, read, and then sighed.

‘You were right earlier,’ he stated blankly. ‘He’s completely in love with me.’

 _No, that’s the other brother_ , Dean thought. _Sitting right here_.

‘Told you,’ Dean sighed, shaking his head. ‘Poor guy. What does he want?’

‘He says, “hey, just checking in to make sure you’re okay, heard you’ve been talking to Dean and I’m glad you seem good. You should visit some time if you get off work.” I didn’t know he cared so much.’

‘Of course he does,’ Dean said, completely serious. ‘It’s not like he knows you’re here or anything and is doing it to try and get you to admit it. He’s not _that_ annoying.’

‘There’s no way he _could_ know that I’m here,’ Castiel frowned. ‘You’re a good liar, I’m a good liar and this phone is new so he wouldn’t be able to track the GPS on it.’

‘I’m a good liar?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows slyly.

‘Occasionally,’ Castiel allowed him, realizing his slip up. ‘Rarely. But occasionally.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence,’ Dean replied sarcastically. ‘So what are you going to say to him?’

Castiel held up a finger and began to type, handing the phone to Dean once he’d finished but before he’d sent it.

_I’m okay. Dean’s been great I appreciate both of you checking in. I’ll try and visit if I can. Thank you._

‘Obviously the visiting part is a lie,’ Castiel explained, as Dean handed his phone back nodding approvingly. ‘But the rest is true.’

Castiel pressed send and Dean smiled as he thought of Cas’s appreciation.

‘You should visit,’ Dean told him. ‘When … when the thing that’s making you not be able to stay there is dealt with, you should visit. Or stay. That’s … that’s an open ended invitation.’

Dean doubted Castiel would ever really be able to stay with them. He was hoping Cas would have his grace back by the time Ezekiel got out of Sam, or soon afterwards at least, and with his grace back Cas likely wouldn’t need to. But if there was ever a time, months, even years from now … Dean hoped Cas would take him up on the offer.

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Castiel replied, smiling. ‘Thank you.’

‘Really,’ Dean pushed, ‘if there’s ever anything you might need … if you ever need help, just show up. You need to know, we’re family, Cas. We’ll help you. I’ll help you.’

The look in Cas’s eyes after Dean said that made Dean suddenly think it might be, just maybe, a good idea to kiss him. Maybe. He was considering it, and Cas’s nonverbal reply was making that consideration lean towards the side of him that was tempted to do it.

‘Dean …’ Castiel said quietly.

 _Do it now you fucking moron_.

‘… thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. You’re always welcome.’

 _Now_.

Cas’s smile was so sad. No, not sad. Happy. With sad eyes. Full of gratitude. But still they looked a little sad.

 _Do it now_.

They shouldn’t be sad. No, Cas wasn’t supposed to be sad.

 _Now_.

Dean reached a hand towards Cas’s face–

Sam replied to Cas’s text.

Dean jerked his hand back.

Castiel pulled out his phone and looked at Sam’s reply: _Any time :)_

‘The smiley face was nice of him,’ Castiel commented.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, swallowing thickly and quickly getting to his feet. ‘Yeah, it was. Uh. I’m going to go check the laundry and … see if it’s dry. I’ll be … I’ll be back.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel frowned, wondering why Dean was acting so odd. Although, Dean was just odd in general a lot of the time so he ignored it and went back to his reading as Dean slipped out the door.

 _He had been so fucking close_.

If he had just made his move a moment sooner, or if Sam hadn’t fucking replied. Fucking Sam. Fucking dumb … dumb … _fucking dumb moose_. It was moments like these that made Dean wish he was an only child, so he could kiss the damn dude he’d been completely in love with for years in fucking _peace_.

It was like Sam was doing it on purpose. Like he was getting Dean back for all the times he’d said ‘I don’t have a thing for Cas’ over the years. FUCK. THAT. SHIT.

Fuck that shit.

Fuck that shit.

Fuck that– the fuck is that?

Oh, fuck that.

“GOD”

In blood.

On Piper and Dani’s door.

Walking back up a few feet …

“HATES”

On Dalia’s.

\---->

On Dave’s.

GOD HATES and a huge fucking arrow pointing to his and Cas’s apartment. Fucking _great_.

Dean went back into the apartment and looked at Cas, still looking as innocent as he had earlier, just with a book instead of a phone. Dean felt a pang, a physical ache in his chest, when he saw that and thought of the message, the third one of the same words targeting them.

‘Cas,’ Dean said from the doorway.

Castiel looked up inquisitively and asked, ‘yes?’

‘Are you planning on leaving the apartment any time soon?’

‘No? Why?’

Dean sighed unsteadily.

‘Don’t,’ he advised.

Castiel put his book down and got to his feet, approaching Dean looking worried.

‘Why not?’

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’d have to tell him, he’d _have_ to – but that didn’t mean Cas had to see it, and it looked a lot worse than it sounded if that were even possible.

‘There’s a message,’ Dean replied evenly. ‘Like the ones from the walls. And it’s the second one today.’

‘The second?’

Cas was getting closer, a crease between his brows. Another few steps closer, and Dean would have to block him.

‘When I said a neighbor wanted to borrow cleaning stuff earlier …’ Dean cringed, fearing a bad reaction, ‘I lied. There was a message on our door that I cleaned off. And now there’s one on the other three on the hallway with an arrow pointing at ours – _don’t_.’

Dean put his hands up and Cas walked right into them. Dean took the opportunity of having his hands against Cas’s shoulders to tighten his grip and squeeze them supportively.

‘Is it bad?’ Castiel asked quietly.

‘You wouldn’t want to see it,’ Dean told him awkwardly. ‘Just let me take care of it.’

Castiel nodded and Dean wanted to slam his head against a wall because Cas definitely looked sad now, and not the sadness mixed in with other things that made it seem like a good idea to kiss him, but the kind of sadness that needed support and made Dean’s protective nature kick in, although he knew Cas didn’t need protecting.

‘I’ll wait here,’ Castiel replied, sighing. ‘I’ll get back to reading. Or … Or I could use your laptop and look up … creatures that leave messages for its victims. Just to see. If there’s anything …’

‘Do that,’ Dean encouraged, squeezing his shoulders again with the strongest urge to hug Cas, but he restrained himself; it wasn’t like Cas was being personally targeted, it was the two of them, two random people chosen in the building, so the two of them should be feeling bad. But for Cas it was just so much more personal.

‘And what are you going to do?’ Castiel asked.

‘I’m going to call the number we got from Harri when we first got here. On that piece of paper with instructions and stuff, the number she said to call if we need help with anything. And I’m going to check if the laundry is done, like I said. I won’t be long.’

Castiel nodded, and Dean dropped his hands. Cas turned and went towards the kitchen table where Dean kept his laptop and he opened it up, noting the laundry basket was still on the table.

‘You forgot the basket the first time you went to leave,’ he pointed out helpfully.

‘Oh, right, yeah,’ Dean frowned, glancing up from the paper and over at it. He finished keying the number into his phone to press the call button once he left, and put the paper back in the drawer they kept it in. ‘Thanks.’

Castiel nodded but said nothing, waiting for the laptop to boot up. Dean grabbed the basket and gave Cas a tight smile before he left. He didn’t receive one in return.

Cas searching up “GOD HATES YOU.” as soon as everything was loaded up wasn’t a good idea. He assumed that’s the message it was, the one from the hollow in the wall, still seared onto the surface of his brain from last night. There were some stupid joke images, a video from a sermon, a book and some question-asking websites offering advice to “sinners.” And then there was the website for the Westboro Baptist Church, [www.godhatesf–](http://www.godhatesf%E2%80%93)

No. Fuck no. That was disgusting, even just from the name he refused to let himself finish reading.

He clicked on it once, scrolled down the page and closed it in disgust

None of the rest of the results made any sense in the context of the message, either, so he moved on to looking up what he’d told Dean he was going to look up.

That stupid Westboro thing was still on his mind, though. Stupid homophobic dickbags. Just like whatever was leaving the messages in the walls and apparently not just in the walls anymore. Just like the stupid people who didn’t understand, were delusional and blinded and led by lies.

It affected Cas more than it would have a few days ago, for obvious reasons.

He managed to get onto the right sites for supernatural beings and creatures quickly, but none of them held answers for his question about creatures that left messages; the closest thing to a creature leaving message was about a spirit guide on some website about witches, and the guide was only _for_ witches and the guides definitely didn’t _kill_ people.

Castiel shut off the laptop in frustration and stood up, intending to go back to the couch and read while he awaited Dean’s return, but he lingered in the middle of the room, parallel to the door. The message was out there, and he knew what it was, but there was an impulse calling him towards it, begging him to take a look even though Dean said he shouldn’t.

He appreciated that Dean was trying to protect him from it, even though he didn’t feel like he needed protecting. But he understood where Dean was coming from. Seeing it would be so much worse than knowing about it, seeing it targeted at him like that. He _knew_ it wasn’t for him personally, he _knew_ this thing didn’t know who he was or what he was – or rather had been – to direct this at him, but he couldn’t help his feelings. It was like being in love with Dean – he couldn’t stop that, and he couldn’t stop being paranoid about that message.

He took a step closer to the door, testing the waters of how he felt about going out there. He didn’t want to. But he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. But he wanted to.

He put his hand on the handle and then jerked back as if it had burned him.

No, no. He didn’t want to. Dean had even advised against it, and if _Dean_ seemed unsettled by seeing it, then it must be bad.

Why would he want to put himself through that? To punish himself? Maybe. For things he’d done in the past, in the not so distant past, that he blamed himself for and still felt guilty about despite Dean’s near-constant reassurances. Hell, maybe even to punish himself for the whole being in love with Dean thing because Dean deserved better than someone like him feeling like that about him. Dean deserved a good person, and a person who believed they were good, not someone who Dean thought was good but in actuality _wasn’t_.

Castiel took two steps forward again, and then another one back.

But see, thing was, he’d finally started to feel better about things. About his situation. About himself. Because of the kind words he seemed to be showered with every time Dean opened his mouth. It didn’t make sense that he was suddenly falling back into his pit of worry and self-doubt and self-loathing.

But it did make sense. It made sense because he didn’t deserve to be out of that pit.

 _No_.

No, it made sense because … he was being thrown back in by a negative message that was affecting him badly. That was obvious. It was affecting him badly, and that was the only thing that could be throwing him into a pit Dean had raised him so far out of …

 _We’re family. We’ll help you. I’ll help you_.

The words rang so familiar in his head, almost like he’d heard them before. Or something like them. He just couldn’t quite pinpoint when, where or by whom.

Maybe no one. Maybe he was delusional.

But remembering the words Dean had said to him took him back onto the edge he feared he would jump off of, and he took another step away from the door just as it opened and Dean returned with the basket of clean and dry clothes.

‘It’s taken care of,’ Dean told him as he shut the door behind him. ‘The doors are being cleaned off and the cameras are being installed early, this hallway first. What are you doing?’

Castiel realized he was still hovering in the middle of the room and turned away, walking towards the couch.

‘I thought I heard a noise outside,’ he explained without looking at Dean, ‘but it was just you.’

‘Are you sure it was just me?’

‘You came in a second later,’ Castiel told him. ‘I’m sure it was just you.’

Dean nodded, seeming satisfied.

‘I’ll put this stuff away,’ Dean said, gesturing the basket he was holding. ‘Then maybe we can go out to the garden I was talking about this morning. Look around and be seen and stuff.’

‘That sounds like a plan,’ Castiel nodded, so Dean went ahead and disappeared.

Castiel suddenly found himself very glad that last night on their way to the car Castiel had made a detour to the dumpster to throw out that stupid old greying underwear he’d been wearing when they arrived here that he’d intended to throw out, because the thought of Dean opening his underwear drawer to stow his underwear away and seeing that made him uncomfortable.

The thought of Dean had his underwear drawer, however, was exciting.

In that sense that they were at ease with each other enough to be cool with that.

And in the sense that Dean, the incredibly attractive man he happened to be in love with, would be close to his underwear and had actually handled a pair.

 _And_ they’d talked about his underwear choice earlier.

And Dean had gotten a little flirtatious.

Jokingly, of course.

And it wasn’t even noon yet – ten to, to be exact.

All that before noon and still an entire day of … stuff ahead of them.

Cas liked how the day was turning out so far.

Cas had only read a few pages when Dean returned and made his way to the sofa and instead of sitting on it, got on his knees in front of it which was another pleasant turn the day was taking until Castiel mentally slapped himself and realized Dean was getting something out of the bag he kept under there, which turned out to be his copy of A Game of Thrones.

‘In case there’s somewhere we can sit outside together and read for show,’ Dean explained when he saw Cas looking at the book.

Castiel nodded and closed his own book, standing up, the two of them walking to the door together.

‘Time to be a couple,’ Dean stated the obvious once they’d reached the door and paused, Dean taking a deep breath.

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded.

And then before he knew what he was doing, he did something stupid and _offered Dean his arm_ like he’d seen people, one half of couples, do. And he went into a complete panic, because first of all they weren’t even outside yet, they weren’t even out of the _apartment_ yet, and second of all this was previously undiscussed, undone and uncalled for. All they’d done was hand holding which had been working fine, they were getting used to it now so for Cas to do this stupid th

HOLY FUCKING HELL DEAN’S HAND WAS ON HIS ARM.

Dean had linked his arm through Cas’s and had his hand resting, wrapped around Cas’s upper arm. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise, but not in a bad way and an impressed look was in his eyes and on his lips. Castiel was unsure of what to do with the arm Dean was holding, but then figured he could straighten it and put his hand in his pocket so his arm wasn’t in this weird stiff position, or wasn’t just hanging lamely by his side.

So they proceeded forward and out of the apartment with Dean’s arm looped through Cas’s, Dean’s hand on Cas’s upper arm, Cas trying very hard not to collapse under the weight of his now rapidly beating heart and Dean trying hard not to tense his fingers and accidentally feel the muscles of Cas’s bicep because it was an enormous temptation that he had to resist.

Dean locked the door behind them one handed, holding his book under his free arm as he did so, and they continued through the building. The previously bloodied doors were now thankfully clean.

They continued through the building as they were, joined and silent and afraid to move their linked arms even a millimeter. If Dean’s hand slid up or down Cas’s arm, of if Cas’s arm loosened or tightened away from his body, it felt like it could get awkward even though it shouldn’t. They’d shared a mug, made underwear jokes and Dean had implied a dick joke, a _big dick_ joke, and earlier they’d even joked about Cas beating Dean’s ass without adding the “at ping pong” part. Yet physical contact was still utterly terrifying.

They were joined in the elevator on the second floor by a young man who smiled and nodded at them, so they did the same in return. They seemed to pass as being completely relaxed, because they received no odd looks in the elevator or when they reached the lobby, and turned in the opposite direction of the other person.

Someone was coming in through the double doors at the end of the lobby as Dean and Cas approached, exiting and turning right at once, signs pointing them in the right direction.

‘So how many people do you think live in this building anyway?’ Castiel asked curiously as they walked along, a grassy area soon greeting them, surrounded by hedges, many of which were shaped attractively like spirals or wavy, tall lines of green.

‘There’s four apartments on the first floor,’ Dean thought out loud, ‘eight on eight of the floors and four on the tenth. So that’s … sixty four, sixty eight … seventy two. With more than one person living in maybe half of them. Half of seventy two is … hang on … it’s thirty six, add that to the seventy two … a little over a hundred. One hundred and eight to be exact.’

Castiel stopped walking, so Dean stopped walking with him and gave him an inquisitive look.

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘That was fast math,’ Castiel said, very impressed indeed. ‘And without even a pen and paper …’

‘It’s easy,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Eight by nine, seventy two. Basic multiplication. Then thirty and thirty is sixty, six and six is twelve, that’s sixty and twelve, seventy two. Take one of the thirties and one of the sixes, you get half of seventy two. Then add thirty to seven and two to six, you’re done.’

‘You …’ Castiel paused, frowning. ‘You’re smarter than people give you credit for. You’re smarter than you _take_ credit for.’

‘Not to most people,’ Dean shrugged, as they continued walking again, having reached the garden which was large and spacious, though only a section of the park that used to be where part of the building was now. ‘I got bad grades because I didn’t care and I didn’t care about going to college because that’s not me. I dropped out of high school senior year to help dad with hunting … and then there’s Sam who graduated with good results and went to Stanford. Who do you think people are gonna see as the smart one?’

‘It’s true Sam would be the obvious pick,’ Castiel acknowledged, ‘but people shouldn’t merit intelligence on grades or schooling. They should listen to the things people say, like the things you say. You have the high intelligence to come up with all kinds of plans and have the intelligence to do math in your head fast. You’re interested in interesting things and you have more pop culture references in your head like they’re on a rolodex than anyone I’ve ever met. Sam may be book smart, but you’re smart too.’

‘You think?’ Dean asked, as they passed a hedge shaped like the symbols for the male gender, two of them intertwined and nearby, the same for the female symbols.

‘I know,’ Castiel said firmly. He would have used his other hand, the one not in his pocket, to pat Dean’s arm if he didn’t have a book in that hand. ‘You should give yourself more credit, Dean. You’re smarter than you think. You’re a better person than you think. And you mean more to people than you think.’

Dean turned away from Cas’s steady and serious gaze to look at the grass beneath their feet, dry where it had likely been damp earlier in the morning. He couldn’t meet Cas’s eyes, lest Cas see the irony Dean felt shining through.

‘I could say the exact same thing about you,’  Dean said quietly as they came to a stop near a bench and separated, standing in front of each other, though Dean left his hand on Cas’s arm. ‘But then again it seems like these days everything you say you think about me, I think about you too.’

 _Except for the fact that I’m in love with you,_ Castiel said sadly to himself in his head. _You’re not in love with me, and that, Dean, is the problem._

‘This looks like a good spot to read,’ Castiel muttered, turning away and feeling a lump in his throat that he was afraid Dean could see. ‘Let’s … let’s sit.’

Dean frowned at Cas, sensing some discomfort and sat down to the left of him. Being bold, he placed his hand on his shoulder.

His right shoulder.

Dean’s arm was around Cas.

Oh dear god.

‘Hey,’ Dean said softly, making Cas look at him, their faces approximately ten inches apart. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine, Dean,’ Castiel brushed off, turning his face away.

‘Cas,’ Dean pleaded, giving his shoulders a little shake, ‘talk to me. Come on.’

‘That’s the thing,’ Castiel replied flatly with a laugh filled with irony, ‘I can’t talk to you. Because when you say things like that …’ he sighed, heavy, ‘I can’t talk to you. Because I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Dean said how he thought was helpfully.

‘Then why did you ask me to talk to you?’

‘I meant talk to me about what you’re not okay about,’ Dean explained, pained. ‘I’m sorry if I said something that made you uncomfortable.’

‘But you _didn’t_ ,’ Castiel stressed, turning to face him with his whole body, making Dean drop his arm from around is shoulder. ‘The opposite, actually. And there’s no way I can reply to let you know how much it means without sounding stupid or repetitive or saying too much.’

‘ _Say_ too much,’ Dean begged of him. ‘I thought we talked about this. You don’t have to hold back. You can say _anything_.’

‘Dean, I –’ Castiel cut him off quickly, swallowing unsteadily, took an equally unsteady breath and then calmed down from his sudden interruption. ‘I … can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because … I can’t think of anything.’

‘Then like I said,’ Dean pressed, putting his hand on his shoulder again, reaching out in front of him, their faces no longer a mere ten inches apart, but an arm’s length apart. ‘You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t be upset by it. Promise me, Cas.’

‘I promise,’ said Castiel, close to a whisper. ‘Dean …’ His hand went up to hover near Dean’s face, inches away from resting against his cheek. ‘I … promise … I –’

Castiel’s hand dropped and the two of them whipped apart when screaming reached their ears, but it was only two men excitedly jumping up and down at a picnic table across the grass, embracing, likely after finding out some good news or something else that would make them react like that.

Now they knew that there was no one being brutally murdered in the quiet garden with a dozen people walking or seated, they turned back to each other but the moment was gone.

‘Let’s … read for a while,’ Dean decided after a less than comfortable pause.

Castiel nodded still not looking as though he were in as good a mood as he should have been. Dean lifted his hand and patted Cas’s cheek once, offering the ghost of a smile, before they turned away from each other and opened their respective books.

Dean could barely see words in his, because he couldn’t believe that he’d had his hand on Cas’s arm, his arm around Cas’s shoulders and had been daring enough to pat Cas’s actual literal face. For a moment Dean worried that with their strange and tense conversation they hadn’t been looking like a real couple, but then he realized that’s exactly what they looked like.

Touching.

Comforting.

Their faces less than a foot apart.

Dean nudged closer to Cas, and linked their arms together again, looping his through Cas’s and then back out far enough to hold his own book steady with both hands.

Dean wanted nothing more than to be able to lay his head against Cas’s and not move for several hours, days or weeks. He wanted to touch Cas’s face again, but let his hand linger there. He wanted their faces to be less than a foot apart, less than an inch apart, less than a breath apart. And then he wanted to separate, just a little, but still remain so close that he could count Cas’s eyelashes and count every shade of blue in Cas’s endlessly blue eyes.

He realized he was staring at Cas instead of at the book he was supposed to be reading. He didn’t care. Cas was prettier than the book, and it’s not like Cas knew because Cas was too busy with his book, and if anyone saw how Dean was staring, it just put more emphasis on the fact that they were a couple.

Except they weren’t, and they never would be.

Dean found it hard to believe that it had only been less than a week since he’d walked into that Gas ’n’ Sip and stated “I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend” with such casual ease.

Dean found it hard to believe he’d been with Cas almost all day every day for almost a week.

Dean didn’t know what he was going to do when he could no longer see Cas every day.

The thought put a lump in his throat and he was forced to focus his eyes on the words in his book, finally, to push the thoughts away.

Dean’s head was far from clear, but he was able to semi-enjoy a half hour of reading by Cas’s side before his neck got stiff from looking down so he closed his book and decided to watch the happenings around him instead. People came and went from the garden, some admiring the hedges and the flowers, some eating lunch at one of the picnic tables others appearing to be working at a picnic table, laptop or papers or book out in front of them. Dean spotted Piper on her laptop, working alone.

It was a clear, dry, cool day, so it was a good outdoor environment to be in. The breeze had a bite, but barely blew. It didn’t bother Dean, and it certainly didn’t seem to bother Cas who’s arm was warm pressed up against him. Dean was able to feel how hard Cas’s arm was through his shirt.

Strong, muscled arms.

Toned shoulders and back.

Sharp shoulder blades that could cut someone.

Dean was forced to draw in a breath and close his eyes, tilting his head back to try and calm his breathing which was tempted to accelerate.

Castiel noticed Dean’s head tilting and looked at him.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked timidly.

‘Fine,’ Dean replied, righting himself. ‘Just … stretching out my neck. Been looking down too long.’

‘Me too, actually,’ Castiel frowned, rubbing the back of his neck with the hand attached to the arm that Dean hadn’t looped his through. ‘I think … maybe we should go in. This bench isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean complained as Cas closed his book and the two of them stood up. ‘It got worse as soon as you mentioned it. My ass must be as flat as a pancake by now.’

There was a man trimming a hedge nearby. Dean wondered if he could borrow those hedge clippers to chop his own head off because he’d just said one of the stupidest and most embarrassing things he’d ever said. To anyone else, it’d be fine. But not to _Cas_. He didn’t want Cas thinking about Dean complaining about his ass, or thinking that it was flat in any way, shape or form. He wanted Cas’s hands _on_ his ass, seeing for himself that it wasn’t fucking flat.

‘I’m sure it’s still there,’ Castiel told him, not seeming to have been bothered by Dean’s comment.

‘Could you check?’ Dean asked, only half joking.

‘If that was a genuine request, sure,’ Castiel replied, ‘but I think I’ll have to pass.’

_“If that was a genuine request, sure.”_

Ohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuckohfuck.

‘It was,’ Dean said before he could stop himself. ‘It was a genuine request.’

Castiel sighed, rolled his eyes and looked behind Dean.

‘I can’t see anything.’

OHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKOHFUCKKKKKK

‘Damn. It must be gone, then.’

‘Maybe. Or maybe your jeans just don’t show it very well.’

OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK!OHFUCK

‘Yeah, maybe. Are you saying I should take them off?’

Castiel rolled his eyes and picked up his pace so he was a few steps ahead of him.

‘Shut up, Dean.’

‘Come on,’ Dean probed, ‘I’m kidding. You know I’m kidding.’

Literally not fucking kidding.

‘I know,’ Castiel told him. ‘And it’s annoying.’

‘I sincerely apologize.’

‘No, you don’t.’

‘Well you got me there.’

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

‘I’m hungry,’ said Cas, changing the subject. ‘We should go out. Find somewhere to eat.’

Okay less of the long ass fucks. This, he could handle.

‘Yeah, me too actually. Quick trip upstairs first then we’ll go. Walk the streets and find somewhere.’

‘I want to grab my jacket,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Maybe a sweater, too. The breeze is cold.’

‘You’re cold?’ Dean asked, feeling horrible at the thought because no, Cas wasn’t supposed to be cold, he was never supposed to be cold. ‘You felt so warm. Not that … not that I was feeling. Like, technically I was, because your arm was right there and my arm was right there, but –’

‘I felt warmer there because my arm was pressed against yours and heat was trapped between us,’ Castiel told him cutting off the panicked rambling.

 _Damn right there’s heat between us_ , Dean thought.

‘I’d give you my jacket if I was wearing one,’ Dean offered emptily. ‘We really should have put our jackets on.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded, ‘although until we got out here I forgot we were going outside due to the fact that we weren’t going _out_. I was thinking of the garden as a part of the building albeit an outdoor part.’

‘Me too!’ Dean exclaimed, nodding along with him. ‘It doesn’t bother me that much. I was distracted by other things so didn’t really pay attention to the temperature.’

‘I was distracted by the same thing as you,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘We’re reading the same book, remember?’

‘I was distracted by other stuff too,’ Dean told him. ‘Lost in thought, that sort of thing.’

‘You couldn’t turn your mind off.’

‘Yeah pretty much.’

‘I’ve been there. More often than I care to recount with you.’

‘Believe me,’ Dean said with a dark laugh, ‘me too.’

The amount of times Dean had gotten lost in his mind about Cas was mind blowing. Whether it was inconvenient sexual thoughts about Cas the hot guy, whether it was sad thoughts about Cas, his friend who didn’t believe in himself, whether it was about how much he loved Cas and wanted to be near him and touch him and just be close to him, or whether it was about how much he loved him and wanted him to fuck him in the ass until he forgot his own name.

A medley of those thoughts crossed his mind now, and he was reminded of how much he loved Cas, wanted him to believe in himself and wanted him to ram his dick so far up Dean’s ass he started choking on it.

Jesus shit those were some conflicting thoughts.

Right now all he wanted to do was get inside and get that precious little angel warm and then fed.

Or precious little ex-angel.

Precious _not_ so little ex-angel.

Precious not so little ex angel who’s thighs were so not so little that he literally couldn’t find boxer briefs that would fit him because of them.

Well, at least he knew that if one day he accidentally saw Cas in his underwear, he wouldn’t be staring at the outline of his dick due to the looser fabric.

Disappointing, but a relief.

Dean wanted to stare at the outline of Cas’s dick.

Or just at his dick.

Fuck, his thoughts went from cute and loving to shockingly sexual fast.

Eh, whatever. Romantic frustration, sexual frustration … they both went hand in hand.

Fuck then cuddle.

Cuddle then fuck slowly with lots of small, fluttering kisses.

Fuck really hard until Dean’s ass was on fire but then fall asleep in Cas’s arms so that he didn’t really care about his burning ass, and damn he must have been fucked good because his ass was burning despite using enough lube.

They reached the inside and the change in the temperature was immediate. Dean hoped Cas would warm up soon, or was already beginning to. He really fucking wished he was wearing a jacket he could give to Cas who’s hand he made a grab for because there were people in the lobby, one on the way outside, one about to go upstairs and another waiting for the elevator.

Pleasantries were exchanged with the stranger from the sixth floor when they were waiting for the elevator, and then again when it stopped on the fourth. They continued holding hands, though, until their apartment door was closed behind them.

‘I’ll get our jackets,’ Castiel offered. ‘You get money.’

‘What makes you think I’m paying?’ Dean teased, folding his arms. ‘You still have money left too, you know.’

‘You have more,’ Castiel replied, knowing it was a joke.

‘Touché,’ Dean replied slyly. ‘Okay, jackets. Go.’

Rolling his eyes in a way he only ever did for Dean, because he had a special eye roll for Dean’s silliness, Castiel disappeared while Dean grabbed his wallet from the kitchen table and double checked he had his phone. When Cas came out of the bedroom, Dean almost had a fucking heart attack.

Cas had mentioned possibly getting a sweater too, and he had, a dark blue well-fitting one he wore over his grey and black flannel. It made his upper arms look even better than they usually did, the fabric stretching well over them and Dean had the fleeting thought _I touched one of those_. The collar of his flannel with the top two buttons open was visible above the neck of the sweater and the untucked shirt ends were visible below it.

Part of Dean wanted to rip off both the sweater and the flannel right fucking now and let his fingers dig into and run all over Cas’s body beneath it, and part of him wanted to grab Cas by the shoulders and the waist and the hips while he was still dressed in it and maybe then run a hand underneath, up the back or the front, he didn’t really care.

‘Here,’ said Cas, holding out Dean’s jacket.

‘Thanks,’ Dean replied, barely managing not to stammer.

‘You’re welcome,’ said Cas shrugging on his own jacket which made everything look even _better_.

The black, the blue and the grey and black. It all coordinated so well, along with Cas’s medium blue jeans and his heavy black shoes, the same style that Dean usually wore. Dean was so fucking torn between tearing it all off, and staring at it for hours.

The mystery of what was underneath was _killing_ him. Cas looked so fucking hot in clothes it was agonizing to imagine what he looked like without them.

‘Can I …?’ Dean asked, reaching out towards Cas’s arm lamely in a way that showed he wanted to do that thing from when they were walking down to the garden again.

Cas nodded and Dean practically could have danced with happiness as he linked his arm through Cas’s again and put his hand on his upper arm. Formerly there’d been just a thin layer of fabric covering Cas’s arm where now there were three layers, but it was no less thrilling. Shit, people who thought Dean and Cas were a couple must have been jealous, staring at Dean and marveling in the fact that he’d gotten someone as hot as _Cas_.

Though Dean was pretty hot too, and by pretty he meant very fucking, so it wouldn’t look like that much of a shock to people. Opposites attract was bullshit, it was hot people for hot people and rub it in the faces of the innocent.

Dean vaguely noted that they’d begun their acting coupley for show before they even left the apartment now. Nice. Before they hadn’t even bothered in public outside of the building unless they were around somewhere they’d be a lot like the grocery store. Now they were starting in the apartment, keeping it up in the building and they were still connected when they hit the streets on a food hunt as the time ticked closer and closer to one in the afternoon.

There were no tense or deep moments like the kind they often got into, as they walked the streets and Dean made funny comments about some things he saw, or he made an unfunny but genuine comment leading to an approving discussion about something or other that they saw that looked good. It was a very nice city from what they could see, and they were lucky their building was located near Santa Monica Boulevard where they found a nice little place called Basix Café where Cas got a burger and Dean got a BLT.

It was a pleasant half hour lunch. There wasn’t that much talking, but when it was it was speculation about the other people in the place. They came up with a fun game: pick a person and give them a name, life and backstory. They ended up getting quite detailed for some, actually, going in on their futures too and laughing about it.

‘Dean, that’s not fair,’ Castiel scolded. ‘Just because she’s wearing a sweater with a cat on it does _not_ mean she’s going to die alone with fifty cats.’

‘Forty seven,’ Dean corrected. ‘But she won’t be _alone_ alone – that guy is going to be the weird heckler in the apartment under her who keeps coming up to tell her she’s walking too loud, but he’s secretly in _love_ with her.’

‘No, he’s not.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘No, he’s not.’

‘And why isn’t he?’

‘Because he’s gay.’

‘Oh, just because you’re gay you have some special gaydar now?’ Dean challenged, putting down his sandwich and folding his arms, giving Cas a stern look across the table.

‘No,’ Castiel replied evenly, ‘because I just saw him check out that guy’s ass.’

Cas nodded at a guy who wasn’t sitting, but leaning against a chair at an angle with his ass sticking out. Dean looked over, then back at the guy in question, and there was no missing it. He was definitely checking out that ass.  

‘Could be bi,’ Dean pointed out.

‘Dean, he has to crane his neck and turn his head to look at that guy,’ Castiel replied, ‘but look at what’s almost directly in front of him that he seems completely oblivious to.’

At the table basically across from the one the man in question was at, there was a woman in a low cut shirt with a lot of cleavage very obviously peeking out, and she seemed to be staring at the man giving her about as much attention as he would give a spoon.

‘Alright, you got me.’ Dean raised his hands in defeat, but he was right back on the game. ‘Then the old heckler is the guy with the ass.’

‘Poor gay non-heckler,’ Castiel said with false sadness.

‘A pity,’ Dean sighed. ‘That guy’s eyes and that guy’s ass would make such a cute couple.’

Castiel laughed, and Dean laughed because Cas was laughing and his laugh was better than the sweetest music he could ever hope to hear, and more beautiful to look at than the most vibrant sunset or strongest rainbow that there could ever be.

And then he remembered that Cas had clocked the guy checking out the ass of the other guy and wondered if Cas ever checked out anyone’s ass besides jokingly checking out his when asked earlier. He hoped so in one sense, because thinking of Cas checking out ass was hot and rhymed, but on the other hand the only ass Dean wanted checked out by Cas was his.

Maybe he’d drop a fork in front of him later and have to bend over to pick it up.

In sweats. Dean’s ass looked good and obvious in his sweets.

Especially with no underwear.

And Dean had suggested this morning they get take out and rent a movie …

Maybe they could get undressed and comfortable for that and Dean could wear sweats, no underwear and bend over.

Maybe they could even share a blanket on the sofa. With the fire on. And the curtains closed. And the lights off. And their feet on the same coffee table.

Or fuck the coffee table and pull out Dean’s bed and have the two of them hang out on that, it wouldn’t be weird. It’d only be weird if they were both under the duvet.

But Dean could easily find a store that sold blankets, wander in, find a soft or fluffy one, decide he liked how soft or fluffy it was and buy it pretending that was the sole reason, when the real reason was to hang out on his bed with Cas under a fluffy blanket and watch a movie and eat takeout.

A long movie.

A horror movie.

A long horror movie that would hopefully creep them out just a little, despite how fucking creepy and messed up their lives already were.

Lots of jump scares.

Maybe they could watch two movies.

Or three.

They’d already had two movie nights, but say … it was for research purposes.

Horror movies might have weird things in them. Maybe even black goo. Maybe even murders for prejudiced or bigoted reasons. Who knew what kind of creatures horror movies like The Exorcist or The Shining could have.

(Well, Dean did, but Cas didn’t need to know that. Dean could just say he knew of the titles of them and thought they might contain clues. Research. Always research.)

Dean was a fucking genius.

Dean voiced his research idea to Cas as they left after their lunch and Castiel seemed to support it.

‘If you think that’ll help,’ he nodded. ‘And despite it being research … watching horror movies does seem like a thrill. Like it could be fun.’

And Dean suggested the bed thing too, making the excuse that they could use the blanket to cover their eyes if they didn’t want to watch something, and also that it would be more comfortable, and easier to put the food in the middle between them rather on the coffee table in front of them which they’d have to keep bending forward towards when they wanted something.

What Cas took away from that was, ‘you have a fluffy blanket?’

That was when Dean realized he’d actually used the term “fluffy blanket” and he felt like running out in front of that car he saw driving by.

‘No, but I want one,’ Dean said, and that made it sound even worse. ‘A blanket I mean, for if it gets too hot and the duvet is too heavy but I don’t want to go without covers, so a blanket will do.’

Cas had bought it. Dean was happy and evilly smirking internally.

Tonight would practically be a date.

A platonic date.

Between two guys who were good at the whole flirty dynamic even jokingly.

Two guys who were attracted to guys.

Two guys where one of them was in love with the other.

But it would still be a platonic date because Dean respected Cas too much to make any moves or advances on him.

Besides, Cas deserved better than Dean anyway. He deserved someone who wasn’t afraid to tell him how they felt, who treated him with the love and respect he deserved from the moment they met him, and would never let any harm come to him, not if Dean could help it.

Shit. They. Not if _they_ could help it. That other dude who Cas deserved to end up with, the one who unfortunately wasn’t Dean, but was better than him …

Oh boy.

This was going to be a tough night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry. At this stage I'm literally causing myself suffering with what I'm doing with these two and my husband yelled at me twice while reading over my shoulder while I was editing. This is killing me. It's like I'm having an our of body experience and reading it over my own shoulder too. Jesus Christ. 
> 
> (No, he's Castiel.)


	15. Diet Coke

After lunch they took to the streets and walked around for a little over an hour. There were many casual places to see around them, mundane places that offered services and boring stores and the like, and the sidewalks were plastered with trees, palm trees in some areas and other trees in others. Santa Monica Boulevard was certainly less exciting than the Sunset Strip about a ten minute drive in the opposite direction, where Dean and Cas had generally been venturing. Their building was closer walking distance to SMB, but the strip and was still within driving distance.

Once they’d looked at all there was to look at, they headed back to the apartment on foot and decided to get in the car and drive in the opposite direction towards the strip, which they couldn’t walk to from SMB without it taking nearly an hour. They found a parking space, and began to explore this place on foot, too.

It was almost a different atmosphere here, and there was even more to see for the next half hour of walking around wherever the sidewalks took them. They almost got lost a few times, but they were able to find their way around by a familiar building or something or other.

Walking around generally didn’t seem exciting, but it was fun. Seeing things, overhearing things whenever they stopped to look around them. They didn’t actually _do_ anything much but it was nice to get out and explore what was around them even though most of the buildings served them about as much purpose as a store selling glasses of air would.

While out, Dean did end up buying a very soft blanket and he rented three movies, asking The Exorcist, The Shining and Poltergeist as soon as they got there. He hadn’t ever watched any of them all of the way through, but he had heard a lot of hype about those three being three of the scariest. Probably not for them, but they might at least add a creep factor as they watched in the dark in a “haunted” building with something living in the walls.

Then they’d made a detour to a grocery store where they picked up several 2l bottles of several different sodas to accompany whatever they ate that night.

They turned back towards the car as it neared three and didn’t reach it until ten after, and drove back to the building satisfied with their afternoon. The parking lot was dull as always, but it wasn’t empty of human life like it usually was. There was a man there with three small children standing by a car a few spaces down from Dean and Cas’s spot, and the little girl who looked to be the youngest, three or four maybe, waved and smiled at them as they passed on the way to the elevator. It was an automatic thing to do the same back, because kids were generally sweet and put anyone in a good mood.

‘Three kids,’ Dean whispered quietly in Cas’s ear as they walked, glancing back at the family as another man stepped out of the car looking frustrated at the one by the trunk. ‘Damn. I wonder where they all fit?’

‘The tenth floor?’ Castiel suggested. ‘There’s only two apartments on each side. They must be bigger. More bedrooms.’

‘And Dani did say yesterday that even the apartments on the right side of the building are the two bedroom ones,’ Dean recalled, Dani having told the story of how she and Piper originally wanted a two bedroom place but it was too expensive so they opted for a one bedroom and a sofa bed, rather ironically, considering the setup of Dean and Cas’s place.

‘So … tenth floor right side must be the biggest.’

‘Yeah, must be,’ Dean agreed, pressing the button for the elevator as it slowly came down from the ninth floor.

It was so weird to think there were families in the building. Like, actual families with kids and stuff. In the same building as them … it made sense, though, it’s not like every person in the community was either single or paired and family-free. And the place did seem kid friendly, gardens and picnic tables and a pool … but it was still weird.

Three girls, late teens to early twenties by the looks of them, stepped out of the elevator, having a peculiar conversation.

‘I swear I’ve seen her,’ said the one in the middle with the light brown hair. ‘She’s _here_.’

‘You’re seeing things,’ the blonde told her, rolling her eyes sky high. ‘You’re still freaked out from that movie about the girl in the elevator. Chill, Evan.’

‘That movie was creepy because it actually happened, Kat,’ said the dark haired brunette to the blonde who presumably was Kat. ‘Dude. I’ll literally dump you here and now if you say that movie wasn’t creepy as hell.’

‘That movie was boring and the story it’s based on is bullshit. That girl was on drugs, there was nothing in that stupid elevator,’ the blonde Kat replied.

‘Bye,’ the brunette said flatly, turning off in the opposite direction back towards the elevator, which Dean and Cas were still lingering by pretending to look like they were doing something; Dean had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through it.

‘No, no, it’s tomorrow,’ Dean said as the brunette approached. ‘We can go back up, we don’t have to go back out again until tomorrow.’

‘I’m sorry for getting the day wrong,’ Castiel replied, quickly jumping on board with Dean’s cover for why there were listening in on the conversation.

The panic in the light haired girl’s voice had been obvious when she said “I swear I’ve seen her. She’s _here_.” The “her” … could possibly relate to the “her” who was knocking and whistling in the hollows of the walls. That “her” presumably looked like a dead person, and that would be creepy to most.

‘You guys going up too?’ asked the brunette as she pressed the button for the doors to open.

‘Yeah,’ Dean answered, nodding.

‘Lexi,’ Kat the blonde called.

‘Then hurry up and get in,’ the brunette Lexi told them. ‘I want to piss her off.’

Dean and Cas obediently stepped in and pressed the button for the fourth floor, Lexi stepping in and pressing the button for the ninth. The doors closed just as Kat reached then and the third, Evan, was left behind. Through the glass doors they could see Kat go straight for the stairs.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ Dean asked conversationally, raising his eyebrows.

‘She doesn’t believe in ghosts,’ Lexi answered, shrugging. ‘That’s stupid. Everyone should believe in ghosts.’

‘I presume you do,’ Castiel stated, less of a question because the answer was obvious.

‘Totally,’ Lexi grinned at them in turn. Then she squinted at Dean. ‘Dude. You look like this guy in the illustrated version of these books I read. _Awesome_.’

‘Do I?’ Dean asked, vaguely amused.

‘Oh yeah, definitely,’ Lexi replied enthusiastically. ‘His name’s Dean. He’s from the Supernatural books.’

No. Longer. Amused.

Dean felt Cas’s hand twitch violently in his own. Dean had to hold onto Cas’s hand very tightly to stop himself from laughing in both panic and amusement.

‘Supernatural,’ Dean tested the word in his mouth, one he hadn’t said for years in this context. He’d thought those books were long behind him. ‘Ghosts and stuff, right?’

‘Yup. So cool.’

‘You know it’s funny,’ said Cas, and that fucker actually sounded _amused_ , ‘because his name is actually Dean.’

‘You’re kidding,’ Lexi stated.

The elevator stopped on the fourth floor and Lexi got out even though it wasn’t her floor, still staring at Dean in awe, looking back at Cas every few seconds. Dean and Cas followed her, and the three remained stationary outside of the elevator as it closed and went, empty, to the ninth floor.

‘I’m not kidding,’ Castiel promised.

‘I wish he was,’ Dean said weakly. Fucking Cas. Fucking prolonging the references to those fucking books. Fucking sounding like he was amused by it. Fucking asshole.

‘That’s awesome,’ Lexi grinned. ‘Really awesome. What would make it better,’ Lexi said slyly, looking towards Cas, ‘would be if your name was Castiel. That’d be something.’

Castiel dropped Dean’s hand and pulled out his wallet to get his fake ID, as proof of his name before he told her.

‘It is,’ he replied.

Dean honestly wanted to punch him.

‘Holy shit,’ Lexi whispered. ‘Holy _shit._ And you guys are together? _Holy shit_.’

Evidentially this girl didn’t read the newsletter, otherwise she’d already know there were people in the building with those names.

‘Lexi!’ called Kat, who had clearly beaten the elevator to the ninth floor by running, discovered it was empty and was now on her way back down.

‘Are you an angel?’ Lexi asked quickly, staring at Cas.

‘I wish,’ Castiel told her with a sigh as he stowed his ID away. ‘But sadly not.’ Anymore. ‘Sorry.’

‘It was a long shot anyway.’

‘ _Lexi!_ ’

Kat had arrived, and she looked pissed.

‘Gotta go,’ Lexi said quickly, and took off running to the right even though it wasn’t her floor.

‘ _I hate you!_ ’ Kat called after her in frustration, beginning the chase.

Dean and Cas watched as they both disappeared down the right side hallway, assumed they weren’t coming back and headed for the left.

Once they were inside their apartment, Castiel started laughing and Dean turned towards him, doing quite the opposite, his glare smoldering.

‘You dick.’

‘You tensed up as soon as she said the name “Supernatural.”’

‘You absolute fucking dick.’

‘It’s not as though those books aren’t actually about you, you know.’

‘You know what?’ Dean asked with raised eyebrows as he took backwards steps away, pulling off his jacket as he went. ‘You can suck my dick.’

‘You know I’ve never really understood the negativity associated with that phrase, or why it’s used as an insult,’ Castiel mused, pulling off his own jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair as he walked casually into the kitchen while Dean sulked with his arms folded by the worktop. ‘As far as I’ve heard, actually having someone _do_ that is a pleasurable experience.’

Dean was too bent on pretending to be pissed off to allow himself to freak out.

Okay maybe just a little.

HolyfuckingshitcaswastalkingaboutblowjobsjESUSCHRIST

‘You suck,’ Dean stated.

‘Yes, that’s what you asked me to do,’ Castiel countered.

‘You think you’re funny.’

‘Sort of.’

‘This isn’t funny.’

‘It is a little.’

‘You know the last time we encountered a fan of those damned books,’ Dean told him, pushing away from the counter and walking towards where Cas was standing smugly smiling at the table, ‘it was Crazy Becky. You remember Crazy Becky?’

‘I recall you and Sam talking about her,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I believe she tricked you into attending a Supernatural convention, dated the prophet Chuck and later broke up with him.’

‘Yeah, and then she stalked us, showed up on Vegas weekend, drugged up Sam with a love potion and married him.’

This was news to Castiel. He wasn’t sure why he found it funny when ordinarily he wouldn’t have.

‘Dean, I highly doubt that innocent young girl we just met would do anything of the sort,’ Castiel replied evenly, enjoying Dean’s pissed reaction. ‘Not all fan are Becky. And I think you’re forgetting the important thing here. The conversation we heard, remember? The one they left behind has been seeing something creepy out of a movie based on true events, despite the blonde not thinking those event are viable.’

Dean was knocked down a peg when he remembered that part. It had been overshadowed by those stupid fucking Supernatural books rearing their ugly head again.

‘Something about an elevator,’ Dean remembered. ‘You don’t think … nah, it couldn’t be.’

‘It’s an intriguing idea,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘But we already figured out that the thing’s not a ghost,’ Dean reminded him. ‘So it’s not whoever died in the elevator.’

‘Could it be whoever or whatever killed her?’

‘In this building? Dude, the history is clean. There’s nothing. Believe me, I’ve checked.’

‘It wouldn’t hurt to ask if we saw one of those girls again, though,’ Castiel suggested. ‘Unless that’s a stupid idea.’

‘No, no, it’s not,’ Dean assured him. ‘There’s a reason we stopped to listen in in the first place. Yeah, let’s do that. If we see one of them again. Now,’ he announced, rubbing his hands together ‘I’m going to get you back for putting me through that.’

Castiel smirked.

‘Putting you through what, Dean?’ Castiel asked innocently, stepping out of the way as Dean made to put his jacket on top of Cas’s.

‘The receiving end of a Supernatural freak out,’ Dean said grumpily.

‘So how do you propose to get me back?’ Castiel inquired. ‘Are you going to ask me to suck your dick again? I do see how that would be getting me back. It sounds unpleasant.’

Actually it sounded extremely pleasant for some reason and Castiel was very proud of himself for being able to talk of it with such ease like any other person who wasn’t just recently discovering this stuff would.

‘Dick,’ Dean grumbled. ‘No. I’m going to get you back by beating your ass like we talked about this morning. You and me, ping pong table, now.’

‘As you wish,’ Castiel sighed, practically sashaying his way over to the table, Dean following behind him.

As Dean put on some music and they readied themselves for a shitty failure of a game, his heart was pounding in his chest. He kept up his pissed off façade, but on the inside he was fucking dying because Cas was talking about dick sucking. And he’d fucking thrown an insult in there too, which didn’t dampen Dean’s spirits because he may have had a thing for Cas, but he knew Cas didn’t have a thing for him. It was cool that Cas wasn’t attracted to him, he got that, he’d just continue to cling to the times when Cas had just acknowledged he was attractive. It was all he had.

Dean served the ball, Cas hit it back, and it Dean on the shoulder, bounced onto the table and then rolled off the edge. It was already off to a _tremendous_ start.

Several failed starts later, and Dean was laughing and their little non-serious spat was forgotten.

Then steadily, the two of them began to improve. They were hitting the ball back and keeping up streaks more, but those streaks always lasted less than ten hits of the ball. Still, it was something, and it was fun. It may have helped that the music had a good beat, the ball going back and forward steadily on it at times.

Like the last time, they ended up playing alternate games longer than actual ping pong, this time starting off with who could bounce it off the floor like with a basket ball and a hand rather than a ping pong ball and a paddle the longest while walking around the apartment. And then, while walking around obstacles, as Dean started putting chairs from the table in Cas’s way to try and throw him off because Cas had made it two loops around the apartment and that was more than Dean had last time. But Cas preserved, gingerly stepping over Dean’s leg and bouncing the ball at his side instead of in front of him when Dean tried that old trick to make him slip up.

Eventually, though, Cas got sick off Dean’s tricks, so when Dean turned around to walk back towards the tape player to change the table, Cas seized the opportunity to attempt to bounce the ball off of the floor and have it fly up and hit Dean somewhere.

It hit him squarely on the bottom of his ass.

Dean turned around, slowly, to face Cas as the ball bounced away across the floor.

Cas had, quite literally, beat Dean’s ass.

At ping pong.

‘Oh, so that’s how you want to play, is it?’ Dean challenged, walking back towards Cas with his shoulders squared.

‘If you try and sabotage me,’ Castiel drawled, stepping forward in a similar manner, ‘I get you back.’

‘Oh, is that so?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel said slowly, coming to a stop as he and Dean were practically chest to chest. ‘It is. Got it?’

‘What if I say no?’ Dean asked, leaning forward. Now their chests were touching. And he was fucking screaming. Internally. Oh fuck.

‘Don’t,’ Castiel advised, making a face so fucking badass and in charge that Dean wanted to melt like he was the wicked witch and someone had just thrown water on him. ‘Got _that_?’

And then … Castiel bumped him. With his chest. And Dean was forced to stumble back a step.

‘Loud and clear,’ Dean said, swallowing, as he took another step back voluntarily.

Castiel frowned at him.

‘What’s wrong with you? You look terrified.’

‘It’s your fault!’ Dean defended himself. ‘You got all … scary and up in my face. Remember how I told you before that you’re intimidating? You’re fucking intimidating.’

Castiel frowned again, but to himself this time, and them smirked in satisfaction.

‘Good,’ he declared, and then handed Dean his paddle. ‘Hold this. I’m going to take off my sweater and look for the ball. It’s hot in here.’

Dean took the paddle and watched Cas turn around in search of the ball. After bouncing off of Dean, it had bounced over towards the worktops somewhere. As he walked, his eyes on the floor, he seized the bottom of his sweater and pulled it off over his head.

The bottom of Cas’s shirt came up with it, exposing his stretched lower back as his arms raised above his head to pull the sweater off.

Dean whimpered.

Out loud.

Castiel turned around, frowning again, sweater hanging over his arm.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

Dean really, really must not have looked it.

‘Fine,’ Dean replied, his voice a little higher than he wanted it to be. He cleared his throat. ‘Just bit my tongue. But I’m good now.’

Castiel gave him a quizzical look, but turned around again and found the ball quickly, bending over to grab it. Dean closed his eyes to try and calm himself as much as he could before Castiel approached him holding up the ball, and with the other hand he tossed his sweater lightly onto the couch.

‘One more game?’ Castiel suggested. ‘A normal game.’

‘Sure,’ Dean grinned. ‘Then I won’t bother changing the tape if we’re ending it. Winner takes all?’

‘Dean, we haven’t been betting anything,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘I never said we had,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I meant all the glory. The title of the ultimate ass beater in the game of ping pong.’

‘That sounds fair.’

‘Unless,’ Dean thought suddenly, ‘you want to make it interesting.’

‘How could we?’ Castiel asked. ‘We have nothing to bet unless it’s money you’re suggesting, which doesn’t make any sense because we’re both living on the same money supply.’

Okay, shit. Dean had been so bent on appearing mischievous and confident that he’d forgotten that part.

And then his mouth started working ahead of his brain.

‘Okay, then how about this. A forfeit.’

‘What kind of forfeit?’

‘The loser has to answer the door to the takeout delivery guy later … with no pants.’

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

He wanted to see Cas with no pants, but that was fucking stupid. He should not have said that. No, he shouldn’t have, and Cas was going to think he was completely fucking–

‘Deal,’ Cas announced, reaching out his hand to shake on it, which Dean did as Cas added to the forfeit, ‘but pants should be the only thing missing. Whoever it is should be completely dressed complete with shoes and socks, just with no pants.’

‘So basically whoever answers the door will look like a crazy person.’

‘It was your idea,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Unless you’re afraid you’ll lose.’

Dean was very aware of the fact that their hands were still stretched out in front of them and joined although their handshake had ended.

‘I won’t lose,’ Dean said confidently.

‘Then let’s play,’ Castiel decided, breaking their hand thing and heading towards the table.

Dean followed close behind him, both terrified and excited and taking much, much pleasure in the fact that Cas was getting competitive, because that was fucking hot, and his facial expressions were fucking hot and just fuck Cas was so fucking hot.

It was probably the fact that Dean was so distracted by how much he’d missed seeing this side of Cas, missed seeing the strong, in control side of him he’d fallen in love with along with the rest of him, that distracted him so badly that he lost.

‘I want a rematch,’ Dean stated as soon as they game ended, with him on two and Cas on five points, five being the number they agreed to go up to.

‘No,’ Castiel denied, folding his arms firmly.

‘Best two out of three.’

‘No,’ Castiel repeated. He put down his paddle and swept around the table, over to the sofa, where he sat and firmly folded his arms again.

Dean hurried around to sit next to him, facing Cas’s side where Cas was facing forward, and grabbed hold of Cas’s arm.

‘Come on, Cas,’ he urged. ‘We didn’t really mean that forfeit. Come on.’

‘You’re the one who came up with it in the first place,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘So you have to follow through with it. Otherwise, how am I supposed to trust that you’ll follow through on your other promises?’

Dean knew he wasn’t serious about the last part. He fucking knew he wasn’t. But still, he made a point. Fucking great, he’d made up this stupid forfeit to try and see Cas without pants, and it had backfired and now Cas had to se

wait just one fucking minute

Hadn’t Dean literally planned earlier to bend over in front of Cas wearing sweatpants and no underwear to show off his fucking ass?

He _wanted_ Cas to see his ass.

And whatever else he may accidentally see in the process.

Like, he wasn’t trying to seduce him or anything, he just wanted to try and make Cas as hot and bothered as Cas made him. And his ass, though not usually obvious through his normal clothing, was actually one of his greatest assets. It was firm, and it bounced when slapped, almost like it was slapping back. And it wasn’t ugly and weird like a lot of asses he’d seen in his lifetime. It wasn’t huge, but it was still one of his greatest assets.

Heh heh. _Ass_ ets.

And his underwear was pretty well fitting. He preferred things that way. He didn’t like the stupid extra flappy material in boxers, but he didn’t like the childishness of briefs, so he went with boxer briefs, the exact type of underwear that wouldn’t fit Cas’s thighs.

Fucking hell Dean wanted to see Cas’s thighs.

But tonight was his turn to show off.

‘Fine,’ Dean groaned, although how it was just a groan for show. ‘I’ll do it. But you owe me for this.’

‘Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I just want to see your humiliation in front of the delivery person.’

‘You suck,’ Dean declared.

‘If you say so,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘So when does my semi-public humiliation ensue?’ Dean asked, looking thoroughly miserable.

Castiel checked the time on his phone and smirked when he saw that it was almost four thirty. The day had gone by quickly, as most days tended to do when fun was being had, and walking around with Dean admiring the city and joking about things and people they saw continuing their little backstory and future game from lunch had been fun, and so had sabotaging each other at ping pong related games, which they’d done for longer than they had originally planned.

‘We should start in a half hour,’ Castiel replied, as casual as ever though he really, really, really, really really really really reallyreallyreallyreallyreallyREALLYREALLYREALLY REAAAAAAALLY wanted to see Dean without pants _right now._ ‘It makes sense because it will be starting to get dark. And despite this being research, we’re still watching movies, so it would make sense to do so when evening begins and it begins to darken into night. Especially considering the genre and the setup you suggested for us.’

‘Well … I’ll just step outside and call Sam and tell him about our research plan, then,’ Dean said grumpily, intending to do nothing of the sort. In fact, he was going to call Sam and rant about how people still read those stupid Supernatural books.

‘I’ll take our jackets and my sweater into the closet,’ Castiel said with ease, getting to his feet. ‘And then I’m going to read.’

‘You do that,’ Dean told him, already stepping his way towards the doors leading to the balcony.

Castiel smirked at how grumpy Dean sounded, grabbing his sweater from the couch and then the jackets from the back of the chair, carelessly placed over each other. Their clothes looked good together. They’d look better in a mess together scattered on the floor because there was no time to hang them up as they fell together, clinging to each other, to the bed Cas was now looking at as he entered the bedroom.

He had to shake that image out of his head and be content with the fact that later he was going to see Dean without pants, and he was going to stare. And then he and Dean were going to share a relaxing space and a blanket, and he was probably going to die of happiness and pleasure and fuck, fuck, _fuck_ he loved how things were panning out.

Maybe he could slip in a sly comment that apparently this morning nothing had happened to Dean’s ass, because he could see it now. That may be taking things a step too far, but … the way things had been going … he wasn’t rethinking it. He was confident.

He was confident as he sat on the sofa and began reading, and he was confident when Dean sat next to him and pulled out his phone, a quick glance over confirming that Dean was on that admittedly addictive app that Cas was now making a note to use up his next five lives on after ordering takeout as he patiently awaited Dean’s impending pantlessness.

Cas read until ten after five. He would have stopped at five, but the next chapter was a Daenerys one he wanted to read, so he read that and then closed his book. Dean heard the sound of the book closing and looked up from his phone, but a different app, now.

‘Oh god, no,’ Dean groaned.

‘Get the menus,’ Castiel instructed.

‘Another half hour. Come on.’

‘No,’ Castiel said firmly. ‘I’m hungry _now_. So get the menus.’

Groaning again, louder this time, Dean went to retrieve all of the menus he’d previously collected and he dumped them down on the coffee table in a mess. Rolling his eyes, Castiel leaned forward and straightened them all out so that they could see them all, and in the end the two of them had a quick chat, a debate over pizza or kebabs which Cas wanted to try some time, but decided on pizza; they were getting two pizzas, one with just cheese and extra cheese, the other with multiple toppings of practically every meat topping there was, along with red onion and sweetcorn. It was because Cas couldn’t choose between them – plain with a lot of cheese sounded so damn appealing, but so did all those toppings. And so did a crust filled with cheese, but so did a crust filled with barbecue sauce, so they got the cheese crust with the cheese pizza and the barbecue crust with the meat pizza.

‘So,’ Castiel announced as Dean stood up to put all of the menus away again after ordering. ‘Time to take your pants off.’

‘Woah, woah, hey now,’ Dean said quickly, whipping around, now walking backwards towards the kitchen area where he was stowing the menus away. ‘Not until the pizza comes. I’m not sitting here for a half hour or longer without pants.’

‘If you wait until there’s a knock on the door, you’ll be keeping the delivery person waiting,’ Castiel pointed out logically. ‘You’ll have to either remove your shoes and socks, then your pants, then put your shoes and socks back on, or you’ll have to take your pants off over them and risk getting them stuck causing delay. You really should get ready early.’

‘No way.’

‘You could wear your robe. Take it off when the time comes.’

Dean seemed to contemplate it while Cas watched, acting calm and teasing, but with his heart pounding in his chest and in his throat too, so hard that he was afraid every time he opened his mouth to speak in case the sound of the beating escaped through his mouth.

‘Fine,’ Dean decided, sounding thoroughly annoyed. ‘I’ll be back. Oh, and by the way, I’ll say it yet again, you suck.’

‘Sucking is a small price to pay,’ Castiel shrugged, watching Dean’s retreat.

Sucking. Dean told him he sucked a lot today. Dean had mentioned sucking earlier. Using “suck my dick” as an insult. Cas hadn’t been offended by it. In fact, it sounded appealing despite the activity being one that wouldn’t usually seem appealing to most. It didn’t even sound appealing at first thought – dicks probably tasted weird and it might be awkward at first unless he knew techniques to make it … good, which he made note to search up later for future reference – but then he _thought_ about it. Dean in front of him, naked, or at least from the waist down. Or maybe not even from the waist down, maybe with his pants and underwear around his ankles, or his knees, or even his mid-thighs. Cas’s lips on Dean, wherever he pleased, getting to touch Dean however he wanted, getting to give Dean pleasure, watch Dean’s face if he could see it looking up from down there, listen to any noises Dean were to make …

He had to take a deep breath and compose himself, eyes closed as he steadied his breathing and his pulse.

So how _did_ one make sucking a dick pleasurable for the owner of the dick in question? Similarly, when he thought back to the porn he’d watched, with the dick sucking in some parts, and what the internet commonly referred to as “ass eating” or “rimming” (or “anilingus” but that sounded too scientific for his liking, and ass eating sounded too blatant) in others, he had to wonder what exactly would make the rimming pleasurable too.

He could look that up on his phone, surely. It didn’t involve watching any videos (or at least not what he had planned, he could save watching more videos for another time) so he didn’t need a larger screen, he was just going to be reading words which he could do perfectly well on his phone.

Screw Candy Crush. It was time to do research on things he would never do with Dean, but supposed he should test out with _someone_ at least if he was going to commit to the whole experimenting thing. Technically it wasn’t the kind of experimenting he’d had planned, since he already _knew_ he was gay, but doing it was still experimentation since he hadn’t done it before and liked the idea of it now (despite only having thought of Dean as his partner in it) but maybe he wouldn’t like the actual act itself, which was perfectly fine, because when he was looking things up – the rimming, the blow jobs, even the sex part with penetration – it said that not all gay men (despite Cas not knowing he was gay at the time, the internet tended to leave out other sexualities on those sites) enjoyed all of those acts.

Dean returned just as Castiel pulled out his phone, and Cas abandoned his phone and studied Dean from the feet up.

There was only two or three inches of shin visible. It was unfortunate that Dean’s robe was long.

‘Fashionable,’ Castiel commented sarcastically, though saying it in a way that sounded completely genuine.

‘Whatever,’ Dean said, with a roll of his eyes, taking a detour to the kitchen to grab the book he’d left on the kitchen table after the gardens this morning, then going over to sit next to Cas. ‘I swear I’m getting you back for this. I s _wear_.’

‘You shouldn’t swear so much, Dean,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘It’s not very ladylike.’

‘Well, I’m no lady.’

‘You’re sitting like one,’ Castiel told him, without looking at him and going back to his phone to get up the browser.

Dean looked down at his legs, neatly positioned next to each other, closed, with his robe securely covering them. And then he flung them wide open and adjusted his position so that he could throw one of them over Cas’s lap and rest his heel on the opposite arm rest of the sofa.

Castiel was taken aback for a moment, lowering his phone again.

‘Do you mind?’ he asked.

‘What, you make fun of me for sitting like a lady and now you won’t let me sit like a man?’

‘That’s stereotyping,’ Castiel disapproved, ‘and you’re not sitting like a man, you’re sitting like an animal. Like a cat stretched out on a sofa like you see in television commercials about pet care or pet food.’

‘Meow,’ Dean muttered.

Cas rolled his eyes which seemed like it was going to become the only thing Cas ever did in response to Dean’s silliness. So Cas decided to get in his own silliness back, but in his own way, the way he always did, so he put down his phone and looked at the leg thrown across him.

‘It’s fascinating,’ he stated.

‘What’s fascinating?’ Dean asked.

Castiel paused, pretending to marvel in the leg, which the robe had fallen off of from the knee down. It was actually a damn nice leg, as far as legs went.

‘It’s fascinating that … not even your legs are straight,’ Castiel replied with an auditory, impressed sigh. ‘Amazing.’

‘Shut up,’ Dean mumbled, glaring at him although Cas could tell it was a false glare. ‘You’re a dick. I mean, you were an asshole, but you’ve crossed the line from asshole back to dick.’

‘Poor me,’ Castiel replied sarcastically. ‘I do hope you realize I only act like this for the purpose of annoying and hopefully entertaining you.’

‘Oh, I know,’ Dean replied casually, ‘that’s why you’re a dick. I just can’t believe you managed to go from asshole to dick so fast.’

‘Well, the two tend to be pretty close together,’ Castiel told him informatively as if he didn’t already know. ‘Unless there’s something wrong with you in that area, causing you to not see how things normally are supposed to look.’

Cas was being bold, very bold, and he was enjoying it very much and at the same time very much hoping that there was nothing weird with Dean in that area.

‘Oh, believe me there’s nothing wrong with me,’ Dean said boastfully.

‘I guess I’ll see when you answer the door,’ Castiel said mildly, picking up the phone again as if the conversation bored him.

‘Yeah,’ Dean replied, somewhat stiffly, ‘I guess you will.’ He paused. ‘So what are you doing, exactly? Candy Crush?’

Castiel considered lying and saying yes, that’s exactly what he was doing, but the heat of the moment and the way things were going and his confidence in himself only drove him brazenly towards the truth.

‘I’m looking up tips for sucking dick,’ he replied, as casually as he would have if he’d said that he was in fact playing Candy Crush.

That shut Dean up for a good few seconds.

‘Use your tongue,’ Dean advised.

‘I hope that’s a blow job tip and you’re not instructing me to use my tongue on my phone to look them up,’ Castiel frowned. ‘That’s just bad hygiene.’

‘Wont lick your phone screen but will consider putting someone else’s genitals in your mouth,’ Dean sighed dramatically, shaking his head. ‘Well, fine. Don’t lick your phone. Be a finger slave loser like the rest of the population.’

‘Oh shut up,’ Castiel muttered, resisting the urge to smirk and noting that “use your tongue” did seem like a good tip, and the website he clicked on having that among the first tips just further solidified it.

Cas wondered how many dicks Dean had had in his mouth.

A lot, he hoped. As much as the idea of sucking Dean’s dick appealed to him, thinking of Dean sucking his gave him even more satisfaction and probably the need for a private session alone in the bathroom later, even after last night, to get further into that fantasy.

‘Any advice on ass eating?’ Castiel decided to add bravely, using the more blatant term of those he knew to be all the more bold.

‘Use your tongue there too,’ Dean said, sounding as though he had to swallow something first, and he had definitely become stiller than he had been before. ‘And make sure the other guy showered that day.’

‘I think those two points are a given.’

‘Okay, fine, here’s a tip. Never eat ass plain. Try it with a side of fries and some ketchup. Better?’

‘You are of no use to me,’ Castiel decided.

‘Garlic?’ Dean offered. ‘Ranch? Mayonnaise – though god knows why anyone would fucking want to eat that garbage.’

‘We’re talking about eating _ass_ and you’re insulting _mayonnaise_?’ Castiel asked, looking up from his phone at Dean’s face.

Dean looked nervous.

Good.

‘We all have our preferences,’ Dean shrugged. ‘And I just … personally prefer ass over _Satan’s jizz_. But give me some thousand island sauce and I’ll forget about damn ass, because that shit is good on _everything_ , I don’t care if it’s supposed to be salad dressing.’

‘… Satan’s jizz?’

‘I really, really, hate mayonnaise. I even hate the word. _Mayonnaise_. Ugh.’

‘Stop saying it then.’

‘Well that’s why I said Satan’s jizz instead.’

‘How appetizing.’

‘Just like the shit I’m talking about here.’

‘Fair.’

They fell silent again, Cas going back to his phone and Dean back to his book. Castiel was feeling very proud of himself indeed, sitting here and chatting and not being afraid to say a single thing that was on his mind besides the obvious oh my god I’m in love with you please let me use these tips I’m learning on you.

Joking with ease about _sex_. The intricate acts of it. Just like any ordinary friend would do, just like he’d heard male friends do with each other before. Of course, their jokes weren’t exactly like those made in conversations he’d overheard, but those conversations were usually between presumably _straight_ men, who were talking and joking about their ventures with this woman and that woman and their own right hand.

‘So are you _actually_ looking up stuff about sucking dick?’ Dean asked after a pause.

Castiel showed him his phone screen where it was there as plain as day. Sort of like how two men that went into the store he used to work in stood side by side at the porn for ten minutes, flicking through magazines and casually showing each other a picture here and there, openly and without shame.

Dean let out a low whistle.

‘Nice,’ he commented. ‘Very well. Go on. Get educated. You’re lucky you can. Some of us had to learn through some shitty experiences.’

‘Poor you,’ Castiel replied unsympathetically.

Shitty experiences. Learning. Dean, sucking dicks. Nice indeed.  

The silence that fell now lasted longer and they both got back to their respective activities. Castiel read up on all he felt he needed to and nodded along as he read, figuring he could do that stuff granted there was someone he wanted to do it with in the future when he had time and this whole angels having fallen mess was over with, and then he moved onto Candy Crush.

He was one life down when there was a knock on the door. Dean froze.

‘Shit,’ he breathed.

Castiel smirked.

‘Take off your robe,’ he instructed.

‘Come on, Cas,’ said Dean, going into pleading mode as he righted himself in his seat and faced Cas, grabbing one of his hands in both of his and squeezing it. ‘I’ll give you one last chance to let me get out of this. Come on, I’ll do anything.’

‘No.’

‘I’ll …’ Dean struggled to find an alternative. ‘I’ll suck your dick,’ he joked weakly.

‘No, you won’t,’ Castiel replied, knowing Dean was kidding, keeping in tone with how comfortable they were talking about that topic this evening. ‘But you _will_ take off your robe and take that money off the counter and give it to the person on the other side of that door in exchange for goods, he goods this time being pizza. I’m starving, Dean. Go.’

Dean groaned loudly as he stood up and undid his robe, letting it fall off of him onto the couch, and he strode more confidently than Cas would have expected over to get the money.

Ohhh, fuck.

Oh boy. There it was.

Dean didn’t have a particularly _big_ or _prominent_ ass, but there it was.

His underwear was tight. And grey. Tight and light colored, showing more than dark colored would.

And his legs. He was so damn bowlegged.

He looked even better from the side. Walking. Walking towards the door without pants.

And answering the door without pants.

The young man who was making the delivery didn’t even flinch.

And then the door was closed and it was over.

‘Bring me the pizza,’ Castiel commanded, and then his hand reached out with a bright idea for leverage.

‘Get it yourself,’ Dean said grumpily as he placed it on the kitchen table.

‘Bring me the pizza, and I’ll give you your robe back.’

Dean’s head slowly turned towards Cas, as if it couldn’t be true. Because it couldn’t be true. It co–

It was fucking true.

Cas was holding onto Dean’s robe with a smug smile on his face and the slight raise of his eyebrows what Dean noticed only solidified that he wasn’t about to give up any time soon.

Dean picked up the pizzas and slowly made his way over.

Hello.

Hello, bulge.

Hi, Dean’s dick.

How are you?

And Dean’s thighs, his inner thighs, his outer thighs, his whole thighs, muscular and strong. Thighs Cas would like wrapped around his waist or his face or whatever.

He could literally see the outline of Dean’s dick. Positioned pointing upwards. A little to the right. Tight fabric pressed against it.

Cas wanted to press has hand against it. Maybe his face.

It looked … impressive. Cas wondered what it would look like erect.

‘Here,’ Dean practically grunted. ‘Don’t start without me. Robe.’

Castiel handed over the robe politely.

‘I won’t start without you,’ Castiel promised sweetly. ‘I’ll set up the bed, if that’s still what you want.’

‘Yeah, I don’t want to have to bend to grab the pizza,’ Dean nodded. ‘I’m gonna change. Bye.’

He spoke flatly and grouchily, and he slouched off, slipping his robe back on as he went.

As soon as the bedroom door had closed behind him, he breathed a sigh of relief.

He didn’t quite have a semi-erection but he definitely, definitely hadn’t been completely flaccid since he’d seen Cas’s phone screen, and feeling Cas’s eyes on him as he went to answer the door, oh fuck, oh _fuck_ …

Cas had definitely been staring at his crotch as he brought him the pizza. Openly and what looked like unashamedly. There was no doubt about it.

Good.

Next tactic was the bending over in sweats with no underwear like he’d planned. They had no need of a fork, so he couldn’t drop one of those, but he could drop … a pillow. A pillow, right next to Cas. When he was putting the stuff on his bed that they’d be on top of, because to be under a blanket but not on top of a duvet would be weird because it would just be like they were under the duvet itself, together, in a gay way.

Or even as he brought it into the room.

As soon as he’d changed he grabbed the extra pillows and duvet from the bed and dragged them back out with him. And then he stopped in the doorway.

‘You said you wouldn’t start without me,’ Dean stated flatly.

‘I lied,’ Castiel replied, sitting on the edge of the bed with a slice of pizza in his hand, the boxes on the bed next to him. He put his unfinished slice back in the box. ‘I’ll go change now. _You_ don’t start without _me_.’

‘Oh, sure,’ Dean muttered, proceeding forward into the room as Cas came towards him to go in the opposite direction. Dean tried to hold what he was dragging in such a way that it was difficult for Cas to pass, and then he let one of the pillows slip out of his grasp.

‘Shit,’ Dean muttered for realism.

Cas was basically right in front of him now, and Dean turned, slowly, and bent, also slowly, to pick up the pillow. And then he straightened. And continued on as if nothing had happened, Castiel leaving behind him. As Dean approached the bed, he heard Cas’s voice.

‘I was wrong this morning,’ Cas called, reentering the room.

‘Wrong?’ Dean asked, putting the pillows in place. ‘About what?’

‘You do have an ass,’ was Cas’s reply, turning and vanishing before Dean could get a word in.

Mission accomplished.

Dean made up the bed and put the pizzas in the middle, up high close to the pillows. Then he put the blanket he’d bought on the bed. Then he closed the curtains and started setting up the first DVD.

Cas came back just as Dean was settling back onto the bed with the remote, ready to hit play.

‘I thought you said we were putting the fire on too,’ Cas reminded him making Dean want to slap himself because he’d already gotten comfortable.

‘Damn it,’ Dean groaned, about to move again when Cas stopped him.

‘No, stay where you are. I’ve seen you do it before, I can do it.’

‘Bless you, kind sir,’ said Dean, opening the pizza box and seeing the slice Cas had started on as Cas turned away from him, and he smirked at the idea of pure evil that had just washed over him.

‘What heat setting do you want – hey!’

‘You started it,’ Dean defended himself. ‘It’s not even a full slice, you ate half of this one already.’

‘Just because I started without you doesn’t mean you can without me!’

‘I’m not starting _without_ you,’ Dean responded boldly. ‘There you are. I can see you. Hi, Cas. Medium setting.’

And then something highly unexpected happened.

Castiel flipped him off.

‘Well fuck you too,’ Dean huffed as Cas turned away and bent over to start the fire.

Bent over, exposing his lower back as his shirt rode up.

And exposing slightly below his lower back as his pants rode down, swiftly got pulled up again, but not before Dean had gotten a decent glance at the hint of a crack and a sight that made Dean start to think Cas wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Fuck yes.

Dean wasn’t going to make any moves, he assured himself of that yet again, but the thought of Cas without underwear beneath his sweats, next to him under a blanket, was absolutely fucking thrilling.

And then doing something else Dean had forgotten about, Cas grabbed the bottles of soda they’d gotten earlier from the fridge.

‘Don’t bother with glasses,’ Dean told him. ‘There’s nowhere to put them.’

‘Then promise me you won’t give me any diseases if we end up drinking from the same bottle.’

‘Nah, I won’t,’ Dean swore. ‘The mouth herpes I caught from that guy who looked like a Yeti cleared up _weeks_ ago. Or at least … like an hour ago.’

Castiel gave Dean a look that showed he didn’t find him amusing.

‘Alright, fine,’ Dean said, holding up his hands as if to surrender. ‘Get your ass over here so I can hit play and see if this movie lives up to its terrifying hype.’

It didn’t.

It was fucking hilarious.

The comedic timing of the projectile vomiting was one of the best things ever, and the furniture jumping around and the doors slamming was basically an everyday encounter, so seeing it on screen wasn’t about to make it scary. The only thing that was scary about the movie was the fact that the people in it were so stupid that they couldn’t tell a possession right off as soon as the kid’s face began to change and turn into … whatever that was.

‘The weirdest part was the “let Jesus fuck you” part,’ Castiel mused, frowning at the screen as the credits rolled.

‘You weren’t … offended by that?’ Dean asked. He’d known the general gist of the movie, creepy child gets possessed, but he’d expected it to be gory and graphic and unrealistic to the point that it was scary, not _funny_.

‘Let’s see,’ Castiel said sarcastically, ‘would a scene in a movie where a cross, which I personally have no relation to, is used as a sex object offend me, a former angel who has never met God or heard from him, doesn’t even know if Jesus is real or not, is gay when humans think God is against that, kissed a demon and had sex with a reaper?’

‘Okay,’ Dean replied slowly, ‘maybe not. What do you mean you don’t know if Jesus is real or not?’

‘Well, no one’s actually met him,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Gabriel never met him. He did meet the woman commonly known as “Virgin Mary” but he never went to her for what the Bible says he did. I’m not sure what the situation was, actually. I wasn’t involved in that side of things.’

‘What _were_ you involved in?’ Dean asked.

‘Waiting, mostly,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘For my time and missions. And observing. I suppose I got to help it in some missions unrelated to my own. Some cruel, some not so cruel, but I don’t remember them. If you remember what Naomi did to me, my memories, well …’

‘True,’ Dean nodded, slow and understanding. ‘I guess your past is your past and it doesn’t matter now. Right?’

‘That’s right,’ Castiel agreed. ‘What I did, what I didn’t do, when I was a soldier of heaven … what I know, what I don’t know … none of it matters in comparison to the things I’ve seen and done since coming to Earth. But I’d rather not talk about it, because there are likely things I’ve taken part in that I truly don’t _want_ to remember, and some of the things I’ve done on Earth …’

‘So Jesus might not be just like the guy in the book,’ Dean said thoughtfully, stepping away from the taboo subject. ‘Doesn’t shock me.’

‘The Bible is never completely accurate,’ Castiel explained. ‘Think of it as a guide line. A guide line for the angels, for the horsemen, for the apocalypse as you may recall. Think of it as a rough transcript based on characters that may not have all the lines right. I don’t know if you know, but it doesn’t even have all the names right. In the Bible, I’m –’

‘Cassiel,’ Dean cut him off. ‘Yeah, I know. Sam told me. He’s read it. Cassiel, the angel who fell in love with humanity or something like that. But there’s also Castiel, the angel of Thursday. I don’t know if that’s in the Bible but … they’re the same right?’

‘Well I, being both of them, certainly would think so,’ Castiel replied. ‘I don’t know everything about the Bible either, Dean. I’ve never actually read it.’

‘You haven’t?’

‘No. I know the prayers and the stories and the names, but there are other books that never saw the light of day, that never touched humanity, with truer stories, or tweaked stories, that I may be getting it confused with.’

‘That’s pretty cool,’ Dean thought with a slight chuckle, looking over at Cas in the dim light from the fire and from the lamp he’d switched on because it had gotten too dark when the movie ended and the screen went black, no longer shedding light on them. ‘That you know all this stuff that humans don’t know. You should write a book.’

‘I did,’ Castiel replied smartly. ‘It’s on the mantle, above the fire. Surrounded by pictures from an event that has something to do with it, along with a flower given to me by my boyfriend who co-authored it.’

Dean laughed and reached over to playfully punch him on the shoulder.

‘Good one,’ he offered.

‘Thank you,’ Castiel grinned. Then he sighed, changing the subject. ‘So, I’m no expert, but I daresay that there was nothing in that movie that could help us with our case.’

‘No,’ Dean agreed. ‘There’s not. Maybe in The Shining, though.’

This movie he could sound convincing about, because the only thing he knew about it was that there was a hotel or something, something about twins in a hallway and the fact that Joey Tribiani from Friends loved the book and put it in the freezer during the parts that frightened him.

‘I’ll put it on,’ Castiel decided, sliding out from beneath the blanket. He was a little unsteady when his feet hit the floor due to being stationary for so long and staring at a bright screen while generally surrounded by darkness.

‘I’ll tear up these boxes and toss them,’ Dean added, getting up on his side and taking the boxes that had sat between them for most of the movie. They’d eaten the pizza pretty fast.

‘See if we have any snacks,’ Castiel requested.

‘Dude, we just had pizza!’

‘Like an hour and a half of movie ago,’ Castiel rationalized.

‘I think we have some microwave popcorn leftover from the movie nights when we were moving in,’ said Dean, checking the cupboards before he dealt with the pizza boxes. ‘Yeah, we do. And we have some chips … half can of Pringles … and a chocolate bar.’

‘Bring it all.’

‘As you wish.’

Dean dropped everything over onto the middle of the bed and then returned to make the microwave popcorn.

‘I’ll just get the boxes then,’ said Cas, who had set up the next movie, ‘since you’re busy with that.’

‘No, dude I just have to put it – you’re already doing it. Right, let me get one.’

Dean had put the popcorn in the microwave and by the time he turned away Cas had seized one of the boxes, so Dean got the other one and they were tearing them together in the darkness, the lamp reaching them fairly well but still keeping things very dull.

When the boxes were torn up, Cas returned to the bed and Dean waited for the microwave, pouring the popcorn into a mixing bowl when it was done because the other bowls weren’t big enough. He got back on the bed, slightly closer to Cas this time since the snacks between them weren’t as wide as the pizza had been.

‘You know, I appreciate you talking to me about all that heaven stuff,’ said Dean, briefly reprising the topic from after the movie had ended. ‘I must be one of the few people on Earth who gets to hear things like that.’

‘You’re the only one I know of,’ said Cas. ‘I’ve never told Sam as much as I’ve told you, and there’s no other angel I know of who’s ever formed a bond strong enough with anyone to talk about such things.’

‘Well, I’m grateful,’ Dean said quietly.

‘So am I,’ Castiel replied in similar tones. He saw Dean’s hand was flat on the bed between them, and he placed his hand on top of it. ‘It’s difficult to be the only person you know that knows these things and isn’t … well, insane, like all of the other angels seem to be these days. Or … all of the angels. No other required anymore.’

‘You can always talk to be about stuff,’ Dean promised him. ‘ _Always_.’

‘I appreciate that,’ Castiel smiled.

Dean smiled at him too, warm and adoring, but Cas would never know how much adoration their truly was behind it. He sighed.

‘So, play?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded removing his hand and reaching for a handful of popcorn, while Dean went for the remote.

The Shining … was boring.

Period.

It was slow paced for the first hour and didn’t make much sense, and Dean had heard that there was a book it was based on and he hoped the book was better. Even the action was dull, and Jack freezing to death was sort of expected.

It was so boring, in fact, that by the end of it Dean was slouched over towards Cas so much his head was nearly resting on his shoulder and when the credits finally rolled, Dean relaxed with a groan and let his head fall onto Cas’s shoulder for just a moment before he righted himself.

‘That blew,’ Dean complained, and adding to the whole excuse for watching these he went on, ‘and it didn’t help. I thought maybe the fact that it was set in a hotel and this is an apartment building might be something but apparently not.’

Actually, he thought that the thing might be even the slightest bit scary causing him and Cas to automatically band together to seek comfort in each other, but the first horror movie was funny and the second was fucking awful.

He hoped Poltergeist wouldn’t let him down.

And it didn’t.

The name was something that made the movie’s plot seem obvious and in parts it was, but in others it wasn’t. Much of it, the haunting and the ghosts and what the ghosts were causing, was accurate. The only thing that wasn’t was the mention of the other “dimension” and then later, a shock factor was put in with the exploding coffins, not exactly accurate but not exactly inaccurate either, and there were a few moments that made them jump.

The now snack-free bed had an almost empty space between them which they filled each time they were startled even in the slightest. Dean reached towards Cas and vice versa, they held each others arms during tense moments, getting closer and closer together so that their bent knees protruding forward as they were half turned to face each other were touching under the blanket.

And then it ended.

Not scary, but at times bearing slight shocks, the kind of shock you’d get on a hunt if you turned around and the ghost was unexpectedly behind you.

‘Anything in that one that could help us, do you think?’ Dean asked, after about thirty seconds of the credits rolling where they hadn’t been bothered to turn off the TV and were still holding each others’ arms and had been since the last slight fright, relaxed now and through the ending, but not bothering to let each other go.

‘Nothing I could see,’ Castiel replied, shaking his head. ‘You?’

He turned his head from the screen to look at Dean and Dean did the same thing.

‘Nothing. Complete waste of time.’

‘I wouldn’t say it was a _complete_ waste of time,’ Castiel disapproved with a frown, shifting, he and Dean letting go of each others’ arms at last, but their knees were still bumping. He leaned one shoulder against the back of the sofa bed and draped his arm over the top of it for balance and keeping himself upright. ‘We got to watch a thrilling comedy with projectile vomiting and Jesus sexual fetishism, got to spend two and a half hours being bored after the thrill of said comedy, and then we got to … criticize the inaccuracies of a general haunting as we went along watching the third movie.’

‘What the hell even _was_ that beast thing?’ Dean asked, frowning at the memory of the … thing. ‘Like, dude, that hardly ever happens and when it does it doesn’t look like _that_.’

Dean turned more now, too, and draped his arm over to the back of the sofa. His arm overlapped Cas’s, and his hand was resting on top of Cas’s elbow. The only thing between them on the bed was the soda bottles, all open and some emptier than others, scattered along mostly in a crooked line down the bed and some of them forgotten about.

‘I thought it looked sort of like you when you’re angry,’ Castiel joked lightly.

Dean playfully punched him on the shoulder with the non-draped hand.

‘Fuck you!’ Dean protested.

‘I’m sorry, but have you _seen_ yourself when you’re angry?’

‘Wow, rude,’ Dean sighed, dropping his head and shaking it as he looked at the small space between them. A nearly empty bottle of diet coke that had been jostled around between them with their movements anyway. No real barrier. ‘But I forgive you.’

‘Thank you. I appreciate your forgiveness for this and … hopefully many future joke-based insults.’

Dean laughed though he tried to prevent himself from doing so, turning his head away so Cas wouldn’t see how big his smile was. When it had faded into a ghost of its former glory but a no less magnificent one, he turned it back and sighed in content.

‘We should do this more often,’ Dean decided, giving Cas’s elbow under his hand a squeeze because yes, he was very aware of where his hand was and how close together he and Cas were. ‘Like, make it a weekly thing.’

‘So … every Tuesday night?’

‘Maybe Monday,’ Dean changed. ‘I like that better, because we have the stuff we do on Sunday, then the stuff we do on Monday … and I’ve been thinking about other stuff we should do weekly on Sundays, too.’

‘When have you had time to think about that?’ Castiel asked.

‘Watching The Boring. I mean The Shining.’

‘That was a weak joke. It was barely even word play.’

‘I know, I know.’

‘If the words “boring” and “shining” had more in common than “ing” maybe, but … have you considered “The Snoozing?”’

“The Snoozing,’ Dean nodded, taking Cas’s suggestion into consideration. ‘An “ing” and they start with the same letter. Better, thank you.’

‘Give me credit if you ever use it again and I’m not there.’

‘I will, I swear,’ Dean promised. ‘I’ll make sure to credit my friend, the puniest angel there is. Still a pretty weak pun, but I doubt there’s many angels out there who _bother_ to make puns, so …’

Castiel laughed appreciatively.

‘Thank you.’

‘No problem.’

Cas knew they didn’t have to mention the fact that he wasn’t an angel anymore.

‘So what else do you suggest we do weekly?’

‘I’m glad you asked,’ Dean grinned, and Cas saw his planner-mode kick in, the organized side of Dean he’d only discovered since they’d moved in together. ‘So, there’s some key things that Sam and I do in the bunker we should do here. Like, grocery shopping. And laundry. And general … cleanliness things. And we usually do that shit on a Sunday.’

‘That sounds doable,’ Castiel nodded.

‘Exactly,’ Dean agreed. ‘So like, Sunday is our maintenance. We do the main shopping on Sundays and if there’s anything else we need or run out of we can get it when we need it, but the main bulk is on Sundays. Same with laundry – the stuff that piles up during the week if it’s not urgent is all done on Sundays. And I think we should wash all of our bedsheets and that stuff every two weeks, too. That’s what I generally do.’

‘That’s … unexpectedly domestic,’ Castiel commented.

‘Hey, I may have spent most of my life going from motel to motel, but when I have my own place I like to keep it in shape,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I like to be organized in the few ways that I can since everything else in my life is so out of balance.’

‘That makes sense,’ Castiel accepted, ‘continue.’

‘We should mop the floors and vacuum the bedroom on Sundays,’ Dean continued, ‘wash down the worktops and the table and all that. Outdoor furniture, too. If we need to clean the microwave or the oven or whatever we can do that, even if it’s not every week. And then the other … less pleasant stuff.’

Castiel got what he was implying.

‘You mean like cleaning the bathrooms.’

‘Look on the bright side,’ Dean said optimistically, ‘at least they’re not public and at least there’s no one jizzing all over the floor as far as I know.’

‘It’s not _as far as you know_ ,’ Castiel stressed. ‘There’s no one doing that, period. As far as _I_ know.’

‘Oh ha ha,’ Dean replied sarcastically. ‘But look man, if I’m crazy, tell me. I’m just trying to give us some kind of … well, like, stability I guess I’ve called it to myself. So we don’t end up living in a gross dump.’

‘Cleaning things sounds more appealing than a “gross dump,’” Castiel said, looking turned off by the thought of said dump.

‘I had a friend in one of my high schools who used his floor as a trash can, wardrobe and storage station for over … I think he said four years,’ Dean said thoughtfully as he recalled the memory. ‘He had like, a tiny area of stepping space, some junk to jump over or he could sometimes step on, then his bed, then he couldn’t even step off his bed on the other side. And the room was small, so the bed was wall to wall right in the middle. Me and three other guys helped him clean it one day and there were thirteen bags of trash in the end, a bunch of stuff he forgot he had or thought he’d lost and a lot of gross decaying stuff. And there was a ton, and I mean a _ton_ , man, of spiders. Big ones. Small ones. Brown ones. Green ones. We ended up with our jeans tucked into our socks and our sleeves tucked into gloves that had tape around the ends.’

Oh god. Oh fucking hell. Cas could see it. He could actually see it.

‘I don’t want that to happen,’ Castiel replied quickly. ‘That’s disgusting. You’re very brave for going through that.’

Dean shrugged.

‘That’s what friends or for. And he let me copy his homework in English sometimes if I didn’t have time to read the book we were assigned, what with looking after Sammy and trying not to piss dad off and all …’

Hearing about Dean’s past was truly heartbreaking at times. Thinking of Dean not even having time to do his homework because all his father cared about was hunting. And Dean didn’t strike him as someone who would just … not do homework for the hell of it.

‘It makes me sad to hear about the kind of things you went through,’ Castiel admitted. ‘And to hear that you missed out on parts of your education because of … other responsibilities.’

‘It bugged me for a while,’ Dean nodded, looking glum at the memory. ‘I cared until I was maybe … fifteen. That was the last high school I went to that I cared, the one with the really smart but really messy guy. After that I just … I knew I’d be moving on soon so I didn’t try as hard. Sometimes I didn’t even bother getting the books. And eventually, you know …’

‘You dropped out,’ Castiel said quietly. He could see that it still bothered Dean, although Dean usually talked of it with suck ease, like he didn’t care. But clearly there was part of him that still resented how he grew up, but Cas knew not to push it so he asked, ‘was Sam there? When you were cleaning that stuff?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean nodded. ‘Sam was great. He was a tiny kid, man, so he sat on the bed with the bags and could get at both teams working both sides. Retape a glove, retuck a sock, toss over another empty bag. And he could reach the switches on the walls beside the bed better than we could sometimes if a spider showed up that we had to vacuum up. And there was one time when he saw this _huge_ spider before we did that was crawling towards a guy with bare feet – before we wisened up, that is – and he warned us. He was our tiny little hero. Danny – that was the name of the guy I was helping – bought us all pizza after, and he made sure Sam got the most slices. He was a good guy, Danny. A good guy.’

‘He sounds like it,’ Castiel nodded, smiling softly. ‘That’s what I like to hear about. You and Sam around good people. I like to know that there was a time before … this mess. A time that was surrounded by another less than pleasant situation, it’s true, but a time where you could do things like that. With pizza and friends.’

‘I’m doing that right now,’ Dean pointed out, nudging Cas’s arm with his fist. ‘You’re my friend. We had pizza. We may not be cleaning a mountain of crap and spiders, but it counts, doesn’t it?’

Castiel’s smile went from soft to joyful.

‘Yes,’ he said, a little proudly. ‘I guess it does. I hope I can live up to the homework-copying-allower.’

‘Ooh, tough call,’ Dean cringed falsely, sucking in a breath through his teeth as if it stung. ‘I mean, there’s you, and you’re … _you_. Good thing,’ Dean assured, at Cas’s quizzical look, ‘but then there’s Danny, and I mean …’ He seemed to hesitate, looking down before he looked back up. ‘He was the first guy I ever dated.’

Castiel’s eyebrows slowly raised.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘The first _person_ , actually,’ Dean corrected himself. Cas waited for him to go on, allowing the story, or a story of some soft. ‘It was so weird. Because like a year later I was in this … this house thing, for boys who misbehaved and whose parents didn’t want to deal with them anymore, and there was this girl from the town and then I ended up sort of dating her. And when I was super confused by that, like when she kissed me … I had to tell her _she_ was the first. Because technically she _was_ the first … girl,’ Dean said slowly, looking down. He sighed and looked back up at Cas. ‘My past is weird. My _life_ is weird … especially when I was a kid running around and stealing food and getting thrown into a house for miscreants for it when all I was trying to do was feed Sam. And to have all this other personal shit on top of that …’

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He knew for sure that he was the first person that Dean had ever told this to, or at least the part about the boy and the girl he’d dated. It must have been horrible and confusing for him, on top of everything else that was going on in his life.

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel decided to say quietly. ‘It must have been difficult to go through so much confusion in so many areas at such a young age.’

‘It was,’ Dean nodded, agreeing with him ad staring down at that almost empty bottle between them, feeling their knees together, their arms having contact … ‘and I’ve learned that it never gets easier. The situation changes and so do feelings, but life always stays just as confusing. So many decisions to make and none of them are right. So many thoughts to deal with … and there’s no one who can do a thing about them so you keep them to yourself.’

Cas felt a heaviness in his chest and a lump in his throat and for once, he could sympathize.

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ he said quietly, hanging his head and turning it away.

 _I wish_ , Dean thought quietly. _I wish you had the same feelings as me. Because if you did then maybe they wouldn’t make me suffer._

If Cas could feel about Dean the way Dean felt about Cas …

But there was always a barrier between them.

Even one as stupid as the diet coke bottle.

No real barrier … but still a barrier.

‘But anyway,’ Dean sighed, that sigh a sweep of negativity being let out, ‘we’re off topic. So. Sundays are the day of breakfast and domestic stability and Once Upon A Time, and Mondays are the night of movies hopefully better than the ones we watched tonight.’

‘The movies were bad because it’s a Tuesday,’ Castiel decided at once. ‘And the universe somehow knows we’re supposed to watch movies on Mondays.’

‘ _Exactly_ ,’ Dean grinned, pointing a finger at Cas and nodding determinedly. ‘Stupid universe. Should’ve just told us.’

‘Technically the universe can’t talk.’

‘A disembodied booming voice from the sky could have told us.’

‘That’s God, Dean,’ Castiel corrected, ‘you’re talking about God. The movie and TV show version of him.’

‘Well then put me in a movie or TV show and give me God’s booming voice to guide me.’

‘I think we’d all like that. Even though some are of the opinion that God hates us.’

‘Well, screw them,’ Dean said sternly, and then he sighed. The credits were long over now, and the room nearly pitch black but for the fire. ‘And on that note … I think we should call it a night.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded. ‘It’s late.’

‘Almost midnight, probably,’ said Dean, adding up the running times of the movies in his head. ‘Or after. We paused them a few times and that time adds up.’

Castiel nodded, and then, reluctantly, slid his arm back down to his side, from beneath the overlap of Dean’s, and began to get up. Dean did the same on the other side, then flicked on the lamp to allow them a little more light, and the two of them started heading towards the bedroom together.

‘What are you doing?’ Castiel asked, admittedly a little hopeful that Dean was following him, stopping just before the room turned into the hallway with the two doors and the dead end and the hollow on the other side of the wall with the gruesome message.

‘I drank a lot,’ Dean told him. ‘Gotta piss.’

‘A multitude of sodas will do that, I’ve discovered,’ Castiel nodded with a slight laugh. That’s what most of the pauses had been for as they chugged soda to wash down pizza and snacks to no end, or, in their respective cases and unknown to each other, at times just to have their lips touch the same bottle top.

‘Yeah, well,’ Dean said with a laugh as they took the last few steps to their respective doors, ‘night, Cas.’

‘Goodnight, Dean,’ Castiel replied.

They stood for several seconds longer than they needed to, like they did on most nights.

And then Castiel broke, allowing himself just a minor lapse in judgement, and he stepped forward and threw his arms around Dean.

But maybe it wasn’t a lapse, because Dean threw his arms around Cas, too, and they stood hugging for several seconds.

Dean smelled of warmth, and musk, and strength and stability and pizza, as Cas pressed his face into Dean’s neck, fitting there like he was made for it.

Cas smelled of pizza and buttery microwave popcorn and the hard to place scent of his deodorant, and everything that was right in the world.

The slid apart, and Cas’s excuse was ready.

‘For the great idea on tonight,’ Castiel offered, calling the hug his thanks. ‘And for just … everything in general.’

And then Dean had a lapse of his own, and stepped forward, placing his hand on one of Cas’s cheeks.

And pressing his lips against the other.

‘For listening,’ he said, grabbing Cas’s hand, ‘and for being a friend.’

Castiel smiled, and knew there was nothing left to say or do that wouldn’t ruin the moment or be too much or too revealing, so he reached behind him and opened his bedroom door, slipping inside as his hand fell away from Dean’s. Cas disappeared, so Dean flicked on the light switch outside of the room and entered the small bathroom with a sigh.

An almost empty bottle of diet coke was a barrier.

But that didn’t mean it was a strong one.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:
> 
> Kat = my niece.  
> Lexi = her girlfriend.  
> Evan = their best friend and roommate, formerly homeless girl taken in by ...
> 
> Man outside of car with kids = my brother in law  
> and  
> Man who get out of car = my brother.
> 
> And of course, their kids.
> 
> They don't ACTUALLY live in West Hollywood, but shout out to them for being the perfect random strangers to slip in, and shout out to Lexi's Supernatural obsession fitting in here and future chapters perfectly.


	16. Cooking

It was difficult to get to sleep after a night like they’d had.

Cas lay his back staring at the ceiling with his heart pounding because of the roller coaster he’d just gotten off of.

Okay, so, first, he’d bumped his chest against Dean’s. And then he’d gotten to see Dean without pants and he could tell, it was obvious, that Dean knew that he hadn’t been looking at his face, and he literally didn’t care. He’d made a pact with himself not to tell Dean he was in love with him, but he never said it was a secret that he was attracted to him. And then he’d gotten to have Dean by his side for hours, and their hands had bumped in the popcorn bowl and their lips had touched the same bottles and their knees had bumped and he’d jumped and clutched onto Dean’s forearms with Dean doing the same thing to him after getting a shock, and then they’d had their arms over the back of the same sofa, and Dean’s arm had been more draped over his than the actual sofa itself …

Cas thought for sure he was going overboard with that hug after an night full of casual touches that only meant so much to him because of his feelings and his attraction and everything that was driving him wild right now, it clearly not meaning as much to Dean …

But he hadn’t gone overboard at all, apparently.

Dean …

Did they do that now? Did they kiss? Like, what?

Dean’s actual lips had been on Cas’s actual face.

Not exactly the place Cas wanted them on his face, but on his face.

His actual face.

Dean’s actual lips.

Fuck.

It felt like Cas’s cheek was burning.

 _Maybe he actually does have mouth herpes_ , Castiel joked to himself.

Speaking of herpes.

All that casual talk of dick sucking and ass eating and Cas actually showing Dean his phone screen. That had had a diagram of a penis on it at the time.

Cas had no idea how he’d kept a straight face through all of that.

Well, actually, he’d kept a gay face through all of that.

He recalled his passing thought about Dean sucking his dick.

He recalled that thought in the bathroom the next morning, too, along with a number of other thoughts after he’d had a quick breakfast which he took into his room because Dean was still asleep and wasn’t wearing a shirt and he was sleeping on his stomach with his arms wrapped around his pillow and the covers were only up to his waist and Cas felt like he was going to die if he didn’t get to run his hands over those fucking back and shoulder muscles.

Who knew he was attracted to backs?

Not him, but the him in his fantasies gently rubbing Dean’s shoulders and back up and down as he fucked him, Dean on all fours in front of him, certainly seemed to know his stuff. 

Cas almost had a fucking heart attack when he left the bathroom to find Dean having just opened the door to the bedroom.

‘Woah, good timing,’ was Dean’s morning greeting. ‘I didn’t hear anything so I thought you were still asleep. I was about to go in there.’

‘It’s all yours,’ Castiel announced, smiling tightly in passing as he went over to his bedside table to grab his empty cereal bowl.

‘Thanks,’ Dean grinned at him.

Castiel shrugged.

He made sure to purposefully bump into Dean on his way past him, shoulder to shoulder.

Niiiiiice.

Cas washed his bowl, and Dean’s too, and Dean’s mug, then he grabbed another mug to have some of the coffee in the pot Dean had made. He opened the curtains, and took the things from Dean’s closed bed which he’d left draped over the couch into the bedroom and set them out on the bed like they were always set up in the day time, being incredibly quiet in attempt to hear anything Dean might have been doing in the bathroom. When he got close to the door, he could hear running water, but no other sound. Boring.

Thankfully, over the course of the morning, Castiel managed to calm himself back down to a bearable level, and the day commended with ease.

Things seemed to be flowing more smoothly now that he and Dean had put aside a lot of things such as part of Dean’s dignity concerning the pantlessness incident, and such as their larger barriers which they broke down with that whole hug/cheek kiss thing that was still thrilling to think about, even hours into Wednesday.

Wednesday was a pretty tourist-y day about the city. They hopped in the car and got to driving towards LA again, arguably the place with the most to see in the area, and with it only being a half hour away that worked to their advantage. They had nothing specific planned for today, Dean having already looked up “places to visit in LA” online but they all seemed so … out of character for him. Parks and museums and observatories and things he couldn’t work out from the name, and Disneyland and Universal Studios which were technically the least out of character for him personally because he did have his huge secret thing for fairytales and Disney movies, but they seemed to be more like places you’d visit as a family, like with kids and stuff.

Not that Dean’s secret thing for fairytales and Disney movies was _huge_. It’s not like on the rare times he or Sam had a separate case, he’d strut around the bunker or around his motel room depending on who had the case, singing Disney songs and songs from musicals because he totally didn’t do that and he totally didn’t know the entire soundtrack to Tangled, never frequently got “Someday My Prince Will Come” from Snow White stuck in his head, and he never once solo-performed the entire Wicked soundtrack in front of the mirror, acting out the parts and singing everyone’s lines as the soundtrack played on CD in the background, a CD which was not hidden under his mattress wrapped in an old rag he’d purposefully dirtied to make it look gross in case someone were ever to look under his mattress. They would see the rag and they wouldn’t want to touch it.

Dean had never done that.

And he didn’t have musical soundtracks on his iPod either, and he was _not_ listening to the soundtrack of Rent as he walked the streets of LA with his least favorite headphones (stupid earbuds, he preferred the ones that went over his head from ear to ear) in one ear.

He liked to listen to music sometimes when he walked places. He hadn’t yesterday, but he was today, and he usually did it to look like maybe it was his music distracting him if he got lost because he absolutely hated getting lost or going in the wrong direction, and the most annoying thing was when he set off in one direction and realized he was supposed to be going in the other so he had to pause, pull out his phone, look at it, look around, look at his phone, pretend to locate something and then go off in what was hopefully the right direction.

He and Cas took a few wrong turns here and there after parking an starting to walk about the city. Despite not having an exact location goal in mind, they did end up wandering into a lot of interesting buildings just for a look and then out again, and they ended up going by some famous places too, one of them being the Hollywood Walk of Fame and Dean honestly didn’t see what all of the hype about that place and found the concept of people getting their names put on the ground one that was stupid anyway.

‘It shows achievement,’ Castiel told him, shrugging, when Dean voiced that opinion.

‘Oh yeah? Do you know who most of those people are?’

‘You know that I don’t. That’s why you asked, the prove your point,’ Castiel reasoned, ‘but I wouldn’t know because I’m not from Earth, I haven’t been here long enough to discover who these people are, although there are some names I do recognize just from hearing them around.’

‘But … like, I don’t see why anyone would want their name on the _ground_. Make a museum for it or something and put the stuff on the walls with a portrait if you really want to show off.’

‘The walk takes up less space than a museum would, and it’s easier for tourists to get to, too. I told you the other day you didn’t seem like the tourist type.’

‘I _can_ be,’ Dean insisted. ‘I’m just saying. There’s better ways to have something like this if you have to have a stupid thing like it at all.’

‘Dean, tell me that there’s not at least one name on here that pleases you.’

Dean glared at him. Castiel’s point was proven.

‘No, but man,’ Dean continued, ‘movie and TV show set tours, I get. Museums or displays dedicated to a person, I get. A plaque on a wall, I get. A bunch of stars on the ground I don’t get. And it’s so disorganized. They never know who’s gonna get a star in the future, so they’re not even grouped into people who relate to each other or genre or _anything_. It’s irritating.’

‘So it’s an organizational thing that bothers you about it,’ Castiel pinpointed.

‘Among other things,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Just … come on. Let’s go this way.’

They set off in a direction away from the walk, off to see what else the city had to offer.

The city had good food to offer, that’s what it had, when the two of them decided to have a late lunch at two.

After lunch they continued their wandering. Dean was no longer listening to music, having turned it off for lunch and he didn’t bother to turn it back on. He was getting tired of having to make up a lie every time Cas asked what song was playing anyway. They walked the streets more than they went into places, but just walking around and observing was enjoyable too, as it had been the previous day in the previous locations.

Admittedly, there were a few places that would have been more interesting than street walking, but Dean had deemed them out of character for himself, like he’d said before, despite having an interest in them.

There were places to see art, which was something he enjoyed looking at, but had been put off many times by Sam’s nerdy interest in the background and history of certain paintings and styles. Dean just liked to _look_ at art, compliment it, maybe try and figure out how it was done.

Another place they could go was an observatory, and Dean had always been fascinated by space ever since he was a kid. Stars and planets and stuff. Sam wasn’t that into astronomy, so that hadn’t been ruined with nerdy facts for Dean, although the nerdy facts on many space topics were all know by Dean already, although he wouldn’t call them nerdy because it was him and he enjoyed it and was interested in it and he was cool, so it was cool.

There was a natural history museum, too, which Dean would have liked to see. Skeletons and old stuff was pretty cool to look at and hear about so long as it was like … by a tour guide and not by Sam talking his ear off about a stupid picture of a dead thing in a book when he wasn’t interested at the time. Not that he didn’t listen, of course, he always listened, he just didn’t let his true interest shine through and made Sam think he wasn’t interested.

In fact, Dean hid his interest for a lot of things that Sam was interested in, because years ago he hadn’t been interested in a lot of it and had often teased Sam in good nature about his nerdy habits, but now Dean was into it too and he refused to admit that to Sam.

There was a wax museum Dean would have liked to visit, it was way cooler than some stupid walk of fame, and there was The Gammy Museum which seemed pretty cool because of all the greats there’d been in music the last few decades. And there was Little Tokyo, and Dean thought culture was pretty cool but again, secretly.

There was a farmers market which probably had some pretty good food and products sold, and Dean wasn’t big on vegetables but now and then he did enjoy an apple, or a pear, or some grapes or some strawberries, but once again he wouldn’t give Sam the satisfaction of knowing. And that market probably sold some pretty good stuff to cook with, finally an interest he let Sam know about because it fed the two of them so it was a convenient interest … maybe he and Cas could visit the market on Friday, then. It didn’t seem so out of character. It would just allow Dean to reveal the more homey side of himself, or _domestic_ being the word he hated.

But damn, revealing how domestic he actually liked to be to Cas made him feel weird. Like … he wasn’t just this hunting machine, he was actually a person with a home life who liked to kick back in his underwear with a beer and a book or some TV or some music. Though he supposed he’d been opening up enough in that aspect of things to warrant some comfort with it.

There was a car museum, too. Of old cars. Damn, there were a lot of museums, and there were so many Dean wanted to go to but he was put off by the word “museum” in case Cas judged him for it, which he knew he wouldn’t, but he was afraid anyway because each time he revealed one of his interests he just …

Felt better about it.

Okay, plot twist.

Maybe he was stupid for holding back on visiting the places he was interested in visiting and had read about online.

Then again he didn’t want to bombard Cas and drag him unwillingly around with him.

But he didn’t want to leave him behind either.

And he didn’t want to split up and do their own separate things in the city.

Fuuuuuuck.

Maybe he could … ease him in. Start with the farmers market on Friday, then on Saturday they could stay in and stick to their own area again if they felt like going out, and they already had their plans for Sunday.

‘Is there anything you want to do, Cas?’ Dean asked casually as he and Cas headed back towards the car around four, hoping they could remember where they parked it about a half hour’s walk away. ‘Like, anywhere you want to go?’

‘Anywhere, really,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I want to experience as much as I possibly can while I can. Why do you ask?’

‘Just … wondered,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So like … if I were to suggest we go to one of the places I saw online, like a place … with wax figures of celebrities, or a place that’s like a mini version of Tokyo in Japan but it’s right here … you wouldn’t object?’

‘Those sound interesting,’ Castiel frowned at him. ‘Why would I object? Tokyo is beautiful, I visited there once as an angel. And as for wax figures of celebrities, I would never miss an opportunity to be educated about the people humans look up to.’

‘Sooo … then you’d be cool with that? Like if we started going places and looking at stuff instead of just walking about the streets?’

‘Dean, are you telling me there’s somewhere _you_ want to go?’ Castiel asked accusingly.

‘Yeah,’ Dean admitted. ‘Yeah, there is, there’s _so_ many but … none of them seem very … _me_. Or at least not the version of me you usually get to see would be interested in. You know, the well-oiled hunting machine. He wouldn’t be interested in any of that but … _I_ would.’

‘We’re far past the well-oiled hunting machine at this point,’ Castiel replied with a roll of his eyes. ‘I’ve seen you read. I’ve seen you cook. I’ve played ping pong with you. I’ve watched movies with you. I’ve seen you answer the door without pants. We’re past, it Dean. I don’t know where we are, but we’re there now and the past is miles behind us.’

‘So this is a judgement free zone.’

‘It’s always a judgement free zone,’ Castiel replied as if it confused him. ‘And it’s a zone where I promise not to tell Sam anything I learn about you whether he knows it or not.’

‘He knows virtually nothing,’ Dean said honestly. ‘Like, he knows my interests that I’m pretty public about. Music and some movies and reading and some things we both pretend he doesn’t know. But there’s a lot of stuff that just … it doesn’t seem like me, y’know? Not the version of me I generally present.’

‘Not the well-oiled hunting machine.’

‘Not even that. The version of me … besides that … that I present.’

‘You mean … the extremely macho-man who enjoys drinking, porn, fixing cars, classic rock, but not much else?’

‘Uh … yeah.’

‘So you mean, these interests only make sense when someone has seen the side of you that say … plays ping pong and does stupid forfeits, watches movies beneath blankets and then divulges into the past conversationally and almost revealingly and talks to a young woman about the Supernatural books, pretending later that he’s repulsed by the thought, yet when talking to the person with an interest in them he kindly humors her and, had he been alone afterwards, wouldn’t have ranted about it and wouldn’t have ranted at Sam on the phone about it later for show – and I know that’s what you were doing, Dean, I heard you through the glass door when I was in my bedroom. You were pretty loud.’

Dean paused for a long while. Usually he presumed he’d be tensed up, but now he just … he didn’t bother. He’d already said on multiple occasions he was going to be completely open and honest and _himself_ with Cas … and here he was, yet again, holding back when he hadn’t realized he was. Putting up walls and protective barriers, and presenting that face he presented to the world, the one that wasn’t amused by anything but his own stupid jokes, and appeared to even have lost interest in some of the things he once allowed the world to see his interest in, like pranking and movies and good television.

‘I want to go to museums, Cas,’ Dean broke. ‘Like art ones, and history ones, and the Grammy one, and I want to go to the observatory. Because it all seems really cool and if you think it’s stupid that I think that’s cool, then shoot me, but we said we’d be honest with each other and damn it I’m being honest.’

‘And if I’m being honest,’ Castiel replied simply, ‘I’m happy that you’ve admitted that and I’d love to go with you on any given day. We do have time to fill, after all, until something happens that gets us closer to finding out what that thing in the walls is.’

‘And I want to go to the farmers market on Friday.’

‘Then we will.’

‘And I want to make lasagna. And homemade burgers and homemade taco fries. And pasta with three cheeses and bits of chicken and bacon. And chicken wraps with three cheeses and thousand island sauce and red onion.’

‘Do whatever you want,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘That all sounds good. It’s not like we can have takeout every night.’

‘No, we can’t,’ Dean said proudly. ‘And besides … I guess the cooking thing I wasn’t holding back on because I’m ashamed of it. I was holding back because I thought it’d be weird to cook for a guy who’s not just my hungry brother who needs feeding three times a day or he starts to bite.’

Dean registered the fact that he’d said “ashamed” and felt an unsettling feeling when he realized he was ashamed of sharing many of his interests. Yikes.

‘You said something to me before,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘It’s only weird if you make it weird. So, it’s only weird if you decide to pull out a fancy table cloth and candles and expensive fancy dishes like you see in high class restaurants or in the movies. If you’re just cooking to feed us, then there’s nothing weird about that.’

‘Okay, then,’ Dean said decidedly, ‘then we need to go shopping because I’m making lasagna. Ever had it?’

‘A frozen two dollar lasagna ready meal cooked in a store microwave usually used to heat up nachos and eaten with a plastic fork.’

‘So that’s a no, then,’ Dean frowned, feeling the kind of twinge he hadn’t felt in a few days of guilt and hurt in relation to Cas’s life before Dean had snatched him up and whisked him off here. And then he let it go, because things were different now and he sighed, throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulder as they walked. ‘It feels good that we’re sharing. It’s liberating, isn’t it?’

‘I can see how it would be for you,’ Castiel nodded. ‘For me, it’s more of a feeling of pride. I’m proud of you for speaking of things that seem to be difficult for you.’

Castiel hesitated in putting his own arm around Dean’s waist, but were he to lift his arm it would be right there … and they were getting awfully good at this physical contact thing … so he did it.

‘It is,’ Dean agreed with him. ‘And I know it’s stupid that it is. I know none of this is a big deal, but when you let the world only see you a certain way …’

‘Things tend to get buried within.’

‘You’re wise, Cas,’ Dean frowned at him. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re wise?’

‘No,’ Castiel responded, ‘but I appreciate that. I think the wisdom comes from being around so long even if I haven’t been a part of humanity as either human or angel for that long.’

‘No, man,’ Dean told him, shaking his head in denial, ‘the wisdom is just you. It’s all you.’

‘Thank you for thinking so,’ Castiel smiled at him, bright and happy, turning his head to look at him as they strolled along at a leisurely pace.

‘Now,’ Dean began, ‘can you use that wisdom to remember where the fuck we parked the car? Because I don’t have a clue.’

‘I think we parked in the parking lot of a mall,’ Castiel thought, ‘but it might have been the parking lot of a gym. There’s a lot of malls and a lot of gyms here, so I’m just guessing. I think it’s that one, over there.’

Castiel pointed to a parking structure that looked vaguely familiar across the street, so they turned as one to the crosswalk with their arms still around each other, waiting for the traffic to clear so they could cross.

‘Any wise idea on which floor? Second or third, right?’

‘Third,’ Castiel answered. ‘I remember you thought it was the second and got surprised when the elevator said it was on the third floor and then opened straight away. You expected it to have to come down first. I’m not sure how you made that mistake.’

‘Good memory,’ Dean grinned at him as they crossed the road. ‘You’re useful. I like that.’

‘I’m glad you can find a use for me,’ Castiel replied sarcastically.

‘Oh, you’re always useful,’ Dean agreed. ‘Good memory, the occasional word of wisdom, and you’re not bad to look at either which is always a bonus.’

‘How complimentary,’ was another sarcastic response.

‘Don’t be sarcastic with me, I’m serious,’ Dean frowned at him. ‘But even if you weren’t useful I’d keep you around anyway, because I like you. And if you like it you should keep an eye on it.’

He’d almost said ring. He’d almost quoted a Beyoncé song. Who he most certainly did not listen to and it wasn’t even a lie – he liked maybe … three off her songs, and hadn’t heard any others.

‘An eye. Just one eye.’

‘Well, two.’

‘You just said one.’

‘Technically I said “an.”’

‘Meaning one. If you had meant both you would have said “keep your eyes on it” or something to that affect.’

‘I’m beginning to like you less.’

‘I’m sorry. Don’t dislike me because I’m right.’

Dean rolled his eyes as they entered the elevator in the parking structure. They kept their arms securely around each other for no reason whatsoever, and kept them there in silence as they went up three floors. They only separated when the doors opened because there were three people entering and it was easier for them to enter around two leaving in single file, rather than two leaving who were practically joined at the hip.

It took five minutes to find the car. They went in the wrong direction first but once they headed in the right one they quickly spotted it and climbed in, heading almost directly for home. They made a quick stop at the grocery store nearest the apartment building and Castiel carried the basket while Dean filled it with all the ingredients he needed for tonight’s lasagna, even having Cas chip in with if there was anything he hadn’t liked about the frozen one.

‘There were lumps of tomato in it,’ Castiel replied distastefully. ‘I didn’t like that. They feel weird in my mouth. I’d prefer it lump free excluding the meat.’

‘Got it,’ Dean nodded. ‘I’ll find a lump-free sauce and if I can’t I’ll damn well make one. Only the best for you, buddy.’

‘You don’t have to go through any trouble,’ Castiel insisted.

‘No, dude, I usually pick out the lumps too,’ Dean brushed off, ‘and the two of us just sitting there picking through our food won’t be a pleasant experience. I’d rather just get it lump free right off the bat.’

‘Is there anyone who even likes when there’s weird lumps of stuff in their food?’ Castiel asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer.

‘Sam,’ Dean replied.

‘Really?’

‘There’s this homemade lasagna sold in reheatable slices in the grocery store near the bunker, and it tastes good but it’s full of lumps of all kinds of crap. I’ve had it two or three times but I just can’t with the shit they put in that. But Sam just eats it like he doesn’t realize they’re there.’

‘Ew.’

‘I know. Ugh, as someone who’s a fussy eater, I find it repulsive.’

Castiel laughed. Both at the statement and Dean’s extreme distaste.

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘You, a fussy eater,’ Castiel repeated. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

‘No, it’s true!’ Dean insisted. ‘I’m super particular about toppings on stuff, and about lumps in stuff, and out like … vegetables in some dishes I order from the Chinese takeout places. I always pick off the pickles they put on the double cheese burgers at McDonald’s, I only like mashed potatoes if they’re _completely_ lump free, I won’t eat boiled potatoes if they have the skin on them and I can barely eat salsa as a dip with chips because I won’t eat the chip if a lump from the salsa gets on it. I don’t like trying new things and when I order stuff I only order stuff I _know_ I like, or I know I can pick stuff out of to make myself like.’

‘But … whenever I see you eat, it’s always with so much enthusiasm.’

‘Because I only order things or buy things I’m certain I like. I don’t try new things. It’s all old favorites. And that’s why I like cooking so much, because I can do it to my preferences and if Sam has preferences that are different to mine he can stuff it, because I’m the cook and I decide what goes in what. If he wants it any different he can cook for himself, and since I’ve been feeding him since we were kids I don’t think that’s gonna happen any time soon.’

‘Sam can’t cook?’

‘He even buys pre-made in-store salads.’

‘Has he ever _tried_ to cook?’

‘Pasta, once. It all got stuck together in a blob and stayed stuck to the bottom of the pot. He can make pretty mean toast, though. And he makes good coffee.’

‘I’m incredibly glad he has you.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean chuckled.

They were at the sauces now, Dean scoping out each jar closely.

‘Can I ask you a question? And if you say I just did I’m going to drop this basket and leave.’

‘Ask away.’

‘How come you asked me if I have preferences when you don’t tolerate Sam’s?’

‘Because Sam’s are weird,’ Dean stated blatantly. ‘But your taste, I trust. Like, if I put a salad on one side and a burger on the other in front of you, which one would you choose?’

‘Are you insane? The burger. I don’t know why you even need to ask that question.’

‘I _don’t_ ,’ Dean clarified. ‘I just did as an example of why I trust you. I already know your answer because you’re _not_ insane, and I’m pretty sure you’re not a rabbit either.’

‘So which is Sam?’ Castiel asked. ‘Insane or a rabbit?’

‘It’s hard to tell at times,’ Dean admitted.

‘And what makes you so sure _I’m_ not a rabbit?’

Dean paused in his jar-reading and surveyed Cas, looking him up and down. He was tempted to say “you’re cuter” but he’d already called Cas “not bad to look at” earlier, and in any sense “you’re cuter” may have been a step too far anyway.

‘Your ears are shorter,’ Dean told him, and then daringly glanced openly at Cas’s ass. ‘And you don’t have a fluffy tail.’

‘I’m wearing pants,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘So technically, I could have.’

‘Well, have you?’

‘That’s private,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘This is something on my ass we’re talking about. It’s personal.’

‘You saw mine!’ Dean objected.

‘You were wearing underwear,’ Cas reminded him.

‘It was well fitting,’ Dean defended himself. ‘You would’ve seen the outline if I had a tail.’

‘Oh, so you do?’ Castiel asked before he stopped himself, wanting to hit himself in the face because he was definitely not referring to any outline he’d seen on Dean’s ass.

‘Excuse me?’ Dean demanded, putting the jar back on the shelf and turning to Cas with his arms folded.

‘I’m sorry, was that not a tail?’ Castiel asked innocently.

‘I don’t have a tail.’

Dean looked genuinely shocked and it was fucking hilarious and seeing Dean’s face Cas frankly didn’t care if he was going too far.

‘Maybe not,’ he muttered. ‘I mean, it was on the front, first of all … and small, too.’

And then Dean got it and glared at him.

‘Fuck you.’

‘With that “tail?” Could you even reach?’

‘You. Are. A. Giant. Fucking. Dick.’

‘I’m surprised you know what that looks like.’

Castiel was smiling now, he couldn’t stop himself, and it was a smug smile that came at him amusing himself. The smile seemed to be contagious because Dean started laughing too, shaking his head as he whipped the jar off the shelf.

‘Shut up,’ he muttered, thrusting the jar at Cas. ‘Is this okay?’

Castiel took the jar and read the back and looked through it the glass at the sauce within, eye peeled for any lumps.

‘It seems fine.’

‘Then we’re getting it,’ Dean announced, putting the jar in the basket Cas was carrying and he started to walk up the aisle towards the other sauces, this time for the white one to go in it. ‘And no more jokes about my dick.’

‘I never mentioned your dick,’ Castiel replied, once again the perfect image of innocence. ‘I think you must be hearing me wrong. I’ve only been talking about your tail.’

‘Shut up,’ Dean grumbled again, grabbing the tittering and stationary Cas by the wrist and pulling him with him, glaring and glowering.

‘Trouble in paradise?’ asked an old lady passing, echoing the question Dean had asked that girl in the elevator yesterday.

‘He can’t take a joke,’ Castiel replied with a sigh. ‘But we’re working on it.’

Dean looked at Cas in disbelief but immense pride. Like, holy shit, this was yet another side of Cas he had yet to see and was only just emerging around him. And it was fucking amazing.

They managed to get through the rest of the shopping incident free, with Dean feeling smug about the fact that Cas had actually been looking at his dick and he wasn’t just his hopeful theory that that’s what Cas had been openly staring at yesterday.

Dean started cooking as soon as they got home. Or back. Or whatever. Was it extreme to start calling it home? Technically it was their home until farther notice. Until the case ended. Was it extreme? It wasn’t extreme. Right? Right, no, it wasn’t. It was fine. Totally fine. Natural, even.

Castiel watched him cook for a while and even helped out a little handing him things and whatnot. He’d originally started reading, but when Dean had asked him to hand him something ‘real quick’ when his hands were full, Castiel had moved his reading from the sofa to leaning on the end of the worktop Dean was working on so he could read ad blindly hand Dean whatever he asked for with minimal reading interruption because Catelyn had just reunited with Robb who had called the banners and was stationed at Moat Cailin.

‘Getting intense, huh?’ Dean asked, layering things in a clear dish.

‘The king is dead. Ned Stark is being deemed a traitor. Yes, Dean, it’s intense. Thank you for your spectacularly stupid question.’

‘Ooh, touchy,’ Dean teased.

‘This is no joking matter, Dean,’ Castiel replied, completely unamused.

‘Just wait until later books,’ Dean grinned, wicked, practically cackling. ‘This won’t seem so intense when you see what the future has in store.’

‘Shut _up,_ ’ Castiel groaned.

‘Pass me that spoon,’ Dean requested with both hands perfectly free and the spoon well within his reach.

‘Get it yourself,’ Castiel muttered.

‘Go sit on the sofa,’ Dean replied with a lazy roll of his eyes at Cas’s look of extreme concentration. ‘I don’t need you anymore. Go on, shoo.’

‘Don’t you fucking shoo me,’ Castiel mumbled as he walked away with his eyes still glued to the page he was reading. ‘You don’t _shoo_ me.’

And then he tripped over the step leading up to the living area.

‘You were saying?’ Dean asked, grinning mischievously.

‘You knew that was going to happen,’ Castiel stated flatly.

‘Could I have reminded you to watch out for the step?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrow. ‘Maybe. But _should_ I have? Nah.’

‘You’re a dick.’

‘I know.’

‘You’re a really giant dick.’

‘Does that mean you’ve seen one?’ Dean teased, eyes twinkling as he reprised their little thing from the grocery store.

‘Every damn day,’ Castiel replied in what was practically a hiss. ‘A joy you’ll never have.’

Dean was a little taken aback as Cas turned away and continued his journey to the sofa to lose himself in the book once again, leaving Dean to just stand there and suffer because he wanted the joy of seeing Cas’s dick every day.

When he put the lasagna in the oven, Dean grabbed his own copy of the book Cas was reading and went to sit on the sofa next to Cas, but, feeling playful, he kicked off his shoes and instead of sitting next to him, he stretched his legs out across him and let them rest against and stick up off of the opposite arm rest so that they were right in Cas’s way. Cas ignored him and simply got his arms and book out from beneath Dean’s legs and rested them on top of them instead.

Dean flipped open his book and then closed it again because he was feeling like a smug little shit and needed to get that out so he decided to text Sam:

_I’m having lump free lasagna you lumpy weirdo_

Sam replied two minutes later with “Good for you lump free weirdo”

 _Thinking of you while I eat it_ followed by a stupid sarcastic heart emoji.

Sam replied, “Hope you get food poisoning :)”

_Hope you go bald_

“Hope you choke”

_Hope you catch dysentery_

“Hope you get syphilis”

_You too. Oh wait you actually need to have sex to do that lol_

And then, “How’s Cas?”

Dean had no fucking clue as to how Sam had gotten Cas from that.

_Talked today. He had frozen lasagna, made we want to make it_

“Did he like it?”

_Didn’t like the lumps_

“Soulmates”

_What?_

“Auto correct. I meant soulmates”

“Soulmates”

“SHIT SOULMATES”

“I MEANT SOULMATES”

“Oh wait no auto correct here”

‘What the hell is going on?’ Castiel asked, staring at Dean’s rapidly buzzing phone.

‘Sam’s being a dick,’ Dean grumbled.

_He’s my friend_

“Yeah ok”

_I’m gonna text him and ask him if you’re a dick_

‘Cas, is Sam a dick?’

‘No.’

_He says you’re a dick_

“Like you had time to text him”

_He still says you’re a dick_

“Soulmates”

_Sure, Jan_

“Who the fuck is Jan”

_DUDE THE BRADY BUNCH_

“You’re a fucking loser”

_I know you are but what am I_

“Ugh”

_Rude_

“Whatever. I gotta go grill Crowley again”

_Tell me how it turns out_

“Will do. Keep me updated on the case and tell me if you talk to Cas again”

_I will_

Dean didn’t expect Sam to reply and he didn’t, so he opened his book again and started reading, satisfied now all of that was out of his system.  

Dean and Cas read steadily together in silence until the timer on the oven buzzed, and then it was reluctantly that Castiel peeled himself away from his book to move to the table as Dean served them up two pretty sizeable slices and poured them drinks from the fridge. They sat down across from each other and started their meal and then Castiel looked like he was going to cry.

‘Are you okay?’ Dean asked him, surveying him with raised eyebrows.

‘It’s _so good_.’

‘Anything you need to pick out so far?’

‘Nothing. It’s perfect. You’re perfect. I mean, your skills are perfect. Your skills in making this.’

‘Yeah, I got that. Because clearly I’m far from perfect.’

‘That’s not true,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘You’re perfect at being _you_. I personally think you’re perfect.’

‘I thought I was a dick?’

‘So? I’m gay, Dean. Dicks are pretty perfect to me.’

‘Oh, are they?’

‘Yes.’ Castiel paused and went back to his food and it seemed like the topic was dropped but then he said, ‘except the ugly ones.’

‘The ugly ones? Oh, this oughta be good. Please tell me where you’ve seen these ugly dicks.’

Their dinner conversation was not typical. Castiel told Dean that yesterday, while looking up tips on certain sexual acts, he’d decided to get better aquatinted with more than one person’s male anatomy and so he’d googled it and found a website where men posted pictures of their junk, not all of those pictures being particularly flattering. And then Dean hit back with stories and descriptions of ugly dicks he’d encountered in real life, including one description of a guy who didn’t wash his and it had weird gross froth under the foreskin.

‘Ugh,’ Castiel replied looking as though he were about to be sick. ‘That’s disgusting. You’re going to put me off my food.’

‘Cas, I don’t think anything could put you off your food,’ Dean expressed, watching Cas continue to eat his second slice without a break.

‘Okay, maybe not,’ Castiel agreed. ‘So it seems like you’ve seen a lot of dicks.’

‘I’ve been around,’ Dean shrugged, smirking. ‘Men. Women. A few people of unspecified genders because I was drunk and literally couldn’t tell who’s lap I was perched on in the bar.’

‘You seem proud.’

‘I am proud,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘I’ve got experience.’

‘Lucky you,’ Castiel replied, somewhat glumly. ‘I’ve got none. Well, a reaper. And a demon, I guess, if that counts.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Dean told him, ‘you’ll find an ass to stick your dick in soon enough. Or a dick to have stuck in your ass. Whichever.’

‘No one is putting their dick anywhere near my ass,’ Castiel assured Dean with utmost certainty. ‘I may not have tried it but I’m certain I’m _not_ into that.’

‘Oh, so you’re a top.’

‘I do like to have the majority of the power. I guess one could still be powerful from any position but I just … when I think about it, like just in general, I guess I’m “a top.”’

‘Well, damn,’ Dean replied, nodded, vaguely impressed. ‘Well … I’m a bottom. Just so you know.’

And then Dean winked.

Cas fucking knew it.

‘So I guess that means we’re compatible,’ Castiel replied slyly.

‘Guess so,’ Dean nodded, noticed Cas was finished eating and asked, ‘thirds?’

‘Are you crazy?’ Castiel asked. ‘I’m full. I can’t eat any more.’

‘So is that a yes?’

‘Oh, yeah, definitely.’

Dean laughed and grabbed both of their plates on route to the dish he left staying warm in the turned off oven.

In the end, the two of them ended up eating the whole average sized lasagna they’d intended on keeping leftovers from, and their conversation ranged from ugly dicks right up to Dean’s past experiences with both men and women, but only the really weird ones because it fit the tone of the evening, and after they’d eaten they retired to the sofa and put their feet up and watched some TV as they recovered from their large meal, and they went between TV and talking and reading and discussing the book for the next few hours until they decided to split up and go to bed.

Dean didn’t even bother putting on a shirt and walked out in sweats with his robe only half closed over his chest. He preferred sleeping without a shirt anyway, or without pants. Either without a shirt or without pants was his usual thing, if he wasn’t sleeping fully dressed.

‘Nice tattoo,’ Castiel commented, recalling when Dean had jestingly complimented his own.

‘Keeps the demons at bay,’ Dean grinned.

‘Mine keeps the angels at bay,’ Castiel related. ‘So I know what you mean.’

‘Doesn’t seem to work on reapers though.’

‘No, well, that’s because reapers wanna fuck me,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘So it doesn’t work on them.’

‘So you’re reapers in general wanna fuck you?’ Dean asked, ‘or just the one?’

‘Probably more than one if I’m honest,’ Castiel acknowledged. ‘You know, I’m not deaf to all of the times over the years I’ve heard people call me attractive, including you of late. So I don’t blame them.’

‘Neither do I,’ said Dean, looking over Cas who’s top three buttons were undone. ‘But anyway. The fact that everyone wants your dick doesn’t matter right now. I’m going to bed.’

‘And so am I,’ Castiel agreed. ‘So, goodnight.’

‘Night,’ Dean grinned at him, as Cas slowly started to back away.

Dean watched him, and winked when Cas reached the hollow that led to the short hallway with the dead end that contained the two doors including the one too his bedroom. Castiel turned away, smiling to himself and secured himself safely in his bedroom, satisfied with his day and his interactions with Dean.

And then he woke up to find Dean prodding him and sitting on his bed next to him and he almost had a fucking heart attack.

‘ _Shit_ ,’ Cas hissed, sitting up in his momentary terror. ‘Don’t _do_ that. What’s going on? Did something happen?’

Dean was grinning. Why was he grinning if something bad had happened that was bad enough to warrant him waking and poking and sitting there in his robe clearly still without a shirt underneath.

‘Happy Thanksgiving.’

Castiel stared at him to make sure he was serious.

And then he whacked in him the face with a pillow and put his pillow back down and buried his face in it, rolling onto his stomach.

‘Okay, so, not a morning person.’

‘I thought someone was _dying_ ,’ Castiel groaned at him, looking up from the pillow and squinting because Dean had opened the curtains and it was bright and _he_ was dying.

‘Dude, no. It’s just your first human holiday. And I know we said only on Sundays, but,’ Dean announced, getting off of Cas’s bed and heading for the closet, ‘I made breakfast.’

Castiel’s robe hit him in the face as he began to sit up.

‘It was a choice between toaster waffles and pancakes,’ said Dean, politely looking away as Cas put his robe on and slipped into his slippers. ‘So I made both. With syrup. And bacon on the side because … it’s bacon.’

‘We have pancakes?’

‘I _made_ pancakes. From scratch.’

‘How long have you been up?’

‘About an hour.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Ten.’

‘Oh,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Okay that’s reasonable.’

‘Yeah. So come on, Sleepy. You look like you could play him in Snow White and the Seven Angels.’

‘It’s dwarfs.’

‘Yeah, but you’re not short. So how long did you stay up reading after we went to bed, exactly?’

‘An hour,’ Castiel shrugged as they left the bedroom and the smell of breakfast wafted towards him at once. ‘Or two. I don’t know. Ned’s dead.’

‘Poor guy,’ Dean replied sympathetically. ‘Coffee?’

‘Is that … even a question?’

‘Suppose not.’

‘You’re perky,’ Castiel stated flatly, going over to sit at the table.

‘A little.’

‘I hate perky.’

‘Okay, no longer perky. You hungry?’

‘Always.’

Dean laughed as he brought him over his coffee and his breakfast, and then brought over his own.

Thankfully, Castiel lightened up during breakfast and came to appreciate his abrupt awakening via Dean’s poking. And he definitely came to appreciate the fact that Dean’s robe was loosely tied and he could see pretty much his entire upper chest, and his collarbone. And he was enjoying how he was shirtless beneath his robe, too. And underwearless. He was wearing two pieces of clothing if he didn’t count his slippers, and he was sitting across from Dean fighting over the last pancake while strategizing what he would do when it came down to getting the last waffle.

When some syrup dripped from Dean’s fork onto his chest, Cas wanted to fucking lick it off.

This Thanksgiving thing wasn’t so bad, and he sure was _thankful_ so far.

They stayed in that day, figuring a lot of places would be closed, and it was a good thing they did because it was barely after noon when Dalia showed up with a pie and a bubbly holiday greeting, and only a half hour later, they received two mini pies from a perfect stranger and his son, who turned out to be someone from the sixth floor who’s son liked to bake mini pies with him so he made enough for the building every year, strangers included, and distributed them personally.

They ate their mini pies instantly, and went back to sharing the regular sized pie which they were sharing with a fork each without even slicing or serving it, even though they were still pretty full from breakfast.

It was around two when they decided they were comfortable enough that they didn’t have to go out to some Thanksgiving buffet like they’d originally planned, and it wasn’t too late for Dean to cook if they got a small turkey which would only take about four hours to cook. Dean had never cooked a real turkey before, but he googled it when Cas wasn’t looking and pretended he’d known anyway, so they went out to grab everything they needed and were very lucky to find that there were a few small turkeys left, and there were potatoes, stuffing, and there were ingredients to make gravy, and they didn’t buy vegetables because literally why.

‘I’m newly human,’ was Cas’s excuse. ‘I can save health for after I’ve experienced the joy of not eating something that in my experience in ready meals tastes just as bad as pickles from the garbage.’

‘Yeah, I’m just not getting them because they taste like crap,’ said Dean, not even bothering to come up with an excuse.

They did buy a cake for desert, though, since they’d already had pie. They hadn’t been intending to have cake but it was right there and it was only eight dollars marked down by half and it was covered in chocolate and chocolate cream and it looked really good and Cas wanted to shove his whole face in it and Dean wasn’t far behind him on that train of thought.

The fact that Dean had his hand in a turkey’s ass didn’t go uncommented on when Dean was cooking for them. And the fact that Dean was covering the turkey in butter wasn’t passed by either.

‘Do you do that to all of the men who’s asses your hand goes up?’

‘Please, Cas, I’m not into fisting,’ Dean scoffed. ‘But yeah, I cover guys in butter _all_ the time.’

‘I hope you’re not serious.’

‘Nah,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Whipped cream once. Never butter. And there was this one experience with melted chocolate … didn’t go too well.’

‘What happened?’

‘My ass got burned. The _out_ side,’ Dean clarified.

‘Fun,’ Castiel replied with vague amusement. ‘So what’s fisting?’

‘Where you shove your entire first, like wrist deep, up someone’s ass. Or vagina. Whatever you feel like.’

‘… Why.’

It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement made by someone who was done with all the weird shit that could happen during sex.

‘Size fetish?’ Dean suggested.

‘That’s … I don’t even have a word for that.’

‘Hey, there’s worse fetishes out there,’ Dean informed him. ‘Foot. Pee. Some folks like to pretend they’re animals.’

‘Please tell me I heard you wrong the word after “foot.”’

‘Just be glad I got the hell out of that one night stand. And be glad I’m not telling you about anything worse.’

‘How’d you get out of it?’ Castiel asked curiously.

‘Asked if I could use his bathroom to listen to his bathroom tap to … get things going,’ Dean said, cringing. ‘And climbed out the window in my underwear. I was smart enough to smuggle my phone into the bathroom with me so I could run two blocks, hide behind a bush and call Sam. Don’t ask where I hid the phone.’

‘What was your excuse for your state of panic and undress?’

‘Told the truth but changed it to a chick,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Sam laughed his ass off at the fact that it had happened again.’

‘ _Again_?’

‘Two years before,’ Dean said tensely, ‘and that time it actually _was_ a chick.’

‘Humans are gross.’

‘You’re just figuring this out now?’

Castiel laughed quietly and watched Dean putting the turkey in the oven. He looked like … Cas felt. Like he was at home. It was becoming hard not to get attached to this, and to Dean. He no longer felt like an outsider and it honestly frightened him more than feeling like an outsider had.

It was going to take a lot of untraining to get back to the stiff, trenchcoat wearing almost robotic at times angel, or ex-angel, he’d been before this experience. He’d have to go back to that to fool the world, and Sam, and even himself, into thinking this had never happened.

Maybe it would be easy, though. Maybe his newfound comfort was only with Dean. It was just Dean he could be open with because … well, he was in love with him. It was weird that that was seeming to make things easier rather than harder.

Once the turkey was put in the oven, there wasn’t much else to do until it was ready, so Dean asked Cas what kind of potatoes he wanted. Castiel had no preference, so Dean ended up making mashed, roast and baked, the baked being just one each, split open and sprinkled with garlic salt and cheese.

The four hours it took for the turkey to cook had been spent with Cas convincing and allowing Dean to educate him on other gross stuff and other not so gross stuff people did or enjoyed during sex, other weird fetishes and a few normal things Cas wouldn’t have thought of like hickeys, dry humping and dirty talking. They also went over things Cas had already pretty much found out from the internet, like foreplay and preparation and lubrication.

‘I know about lubrication,’ Cas cut Dean off as soon as he’d started on it. ‘I have lube. I’m not stupid.’

‘You _have_ lube?’

‘I bought it the day you went out for some things and I was alone and used your computer to watch porn.’

‘Sounds like you had a good day that day.’

Castiel shrugged ad replied, ‘it was decent. Not as good as others but decent.’

Of course, Castiel didn’t say that jerking off to porn had been decent but doing it when thinking about Dean was fucking mind blowing.

They eventually strayed away from all of that when Dean was preparing their three different types of potatoes and Cas was helping, rubbing the raw potatoes that were going to be baked with olive oil and salt and pepper because Dean had asked him to, while Dean busied himself covering the turkey with tinfoil to keep the heat in for the forty minutes the baked potatoes would take.

They moved on to more basic things, like what people tended to do in life, and how, if it turned out that he ever needed one, Cas could get a better job than a store assistant and how Dean would help him fake any documents he needed, and he also pointed out Cas didn’t need to use a fake name for that because Castiel was a nice name he should be proud to bear, which made Castiel look down at his shoes and try not to blush.

‘But you won’t need to do any of that anyway, so I don’t know why we’re talking about it,’ Dean said, accepting milk from Cas to pour into the mashed potatoes to improve their texture and flavor as he mashed them. ‘Me and Sam will take care of you until you’re all juiced up as an angel again or … not.’

‘You don’t know if that’s possible, though,’ Castiel said uncertainly, taking over the mashing as the timer for the baked and roast potatoes went off just in time, because the mashing was just about done too. ‘Circumstantially, we have no idea what the future holds. Something could happen. I could end up with some personal mission I need to work, like against the angels or something. Or I could end up doing some other task that takes me away from you. And from Sam.’

‘So?’ Dean asked. ‘Be away from us, then. But come back when you can. I told you, even if it’s years from now, you show up at the bunker and you can stay there. But as of right now …’

‘I have to trust you,’ Castiel nodded, getting plates. ‘I know. And I do. I always do and I always will. How can I not trust you, when you’ve cooked for me multiple times and have yet to give me food poisoning?’

‘Exactly!’ Dean nodded with him, enthusiastically, carving the turkey and putting slices on their plates. ‘See, that just proves it. You can even trust me to tell you that your zipper has been open for about twenty minutes and I didn’t want to tell you when you got back from the bathroom, but hearing that you trust me made it so I just _had_ to.’

‘And I trust you enough not to ask why you were looking at my crotch in the first place,’ Castiel replied, zipping himself up.

‘Hey, I’m bisexual. I like men. It’s what I do.’

‘I can relate,’ Castiel said, allowing himself a small laugh and a small bubble of pride in the fact that Dean seemed to be getting more comfortable talking about his sexuality, at least with him. ‘Not to the bi part, but to the rest of it.’

‘I know,’ Dean grinned at him. ‘Don’t think I haven’t seen you looking. And, as your extremely hot male friend, I’m flattered.’

‘And _I_ , as _your_ extremely hot male friend, am also flattered.’

‘So it seems we think a lot of ourselves.’

‘It seems we do.’

‘How’s the turkey?’

‘It’s great.’

‘Dry at all? They can get pretty dry sometimes.’

‘No, it’s perfect.’

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure. And if it gets dry, I’ll just add more gravy.’

‘An excellent plan indeed.’

They polished off all of the potatoes and had a little more turkey before Dean carved the rest of it and put it on a plate covered in tinfoil to put in the fridge. It wouldn’t fit into the fridge when it was nearly whole. And then they started on the cake, taking it over to the sofa with the TV on and some beers which they’d picked up at the store, and they ate with two forks and no plate just like they had with the pie earlier.

‘I’m going to end up fat, aren’t I?’ Castiel asked, stuffing the crumbling chocolate sponge in his mouth.

‘Who cares,’ Dean shrugged. ‘You’ll still be hot. And you’ll still have a pretty face. It’ll be a shame about the jawline, though, when that goes.’

‘How do _you_ keep from being three hundred and fifty pounds?’

‘I don’t know. Hunting, I guess. Or a good metabolism. But even with both of those, I doubt either of us will ever be as ripped as Salad Savoring Sam. Wonder what he’s up to?’

‘You should call him,’ said Cas. ‘And so should I. He’s ripped?’

‘Oh, yeah. He’s weird. He works out. He does sit ups. On the _floor_. Not on his bed to reach the remote to change the channel, but on the _floor_.’

‘Outrageous.’

‘Tell me about it. Like, have a burger you jogging freak.’

‘He would be judging us with extreme disappointment in his eyes right about now.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, but he clearly didn’t care. ‘There’s frosting on your chin.’

‘There?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Have I got it all?’

‘Yeah, you’re good.’

They continued to eat, and when they finished they kicked back with more beers and more television, flicking around the channels and not focusing on anything, recovering from their excessive meal. They read for a while, too, and it turned out Cas had overtaken Dean in how far he’d gotten through the book, because Dean read slower and had been reading less than Cas had. Cas was only a few pages ahead, so he let Dean catch up and then they read together for a while, out loud, taking it in turns and breaking into mini discussions here and there about an action and even about how the characters spoke in the time period it was supposed to be set in which was something akin to the middle ages.

‘But it doesn’t level up with our time periods at all,’ Dean informed Cas when they got into that. ‘It seems like they’re been stuck in the middle ages for thousands and thousands of years. No wonder everything’s a mess.’

‘But they have dragons and magic,’ Cas argued in Westeros’s favor. ‘So it’s not like it’s set on our Earth. It doesn’t have to be completely historically accurate.’

‘True,’ Dean reasoned, nodding. ‘Let’s keep going.’

So they did.

When they tired of reading, they decided to play Candy Crush together. They took it in turns on one device, seeing who could get the closest to the goal in the least moves, and when Cas cleared a level on Dean’s phone he was declared the winner of the competition thing they had going, and then they started over until the remaining two lives were done, along with Cas’s five. It took a while for Cas’s lives to run out because they were still on the early levels on his phone which were notably easier and they each cleared many. During that time, they paused their fun to each call Sam within minutes of each other, to wish him a happy Thanksgiving.

‘He still has all his hair and is syphilis-free,’ Dean said sadly, in reference to the conversation he’d had with Sam yesterday, which he then read out to Cas leaving out the “soulmates” part.

Thankfully, Cas’s call with Sam was nicer than Dean’s was, and they talked for several minutes with Cas giving updates on his situation and assurances that he was fine, and he said he was staying in a motel and was going quite well. Sam asked about Dean and made some comments suggesting that he and Dean seemed to be in contact a lot, but Cas brushed them off saying ‘he texts a lot. So I have to reply.’

When the call ended, Cas was silent for a moment. He missed Sam. He hadn’t seen him in a while and he was glad he seemed to be doing well. But oh well, Sam aside, he still had Dean.

They goofed around until around ten, and then they decided to do the dishes together. Dean washed and Cas dried, and then Dean made some turkey sandwiches and did a thing he’d heard about from Monica (well, technically Ross said it about Monica) from Friends, putting an extra slice of gravy soaked bread in the middle, so he could use up all of the gravy leftover. He put different extra fillings in each sandwich – they had an assortment of sliced cheeses and sliced packaged meats, (because Dean enjoyed sandwiches and had bought some when the originally went shopping for the apartment,) and Dean wrapped each one up and placed it in the fridge to eat throughout the next day or even all through the weekend depending on freshness.

‘We’ll take some of them out with us tomorrow,’ Dean suggested in a statement. ‘I was thinking we could go to this farmer’s market somewhere nearby that the internet mentioned. Pick up stuff for cooking or for snacks. I might’ve mentioned it yesterday.’

‘Taking food with us to buy food,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Sounds fun. I hope they have strawberries.’

‘You like strawberries?’

‘Fruit was just as cheap a ready meals,’ Castiel explained. ‘So long as I didn’t buy too much of it.’

‘I’m sure they’ll have strawberries,’ Dean reasoned. ‘We’ll see tomorrow, I guess.’

‘I guess we will,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Can I grab one of those sandwiches now? I’m going to go to bed and want to take it with me. I’m going to do a little more reading before I sleep. It’d be nice to have a snack too.’

‘Damn, you’ll be ahead of me again,’ Dean pretended to curse. ‘Go ahead, grab one. I’ll go change for bed too.’

Castiel selected his sandwich carefully, deciding which tastes he wanted to experience first, and went with one with sliced cajun chicken accompanying the turkey, and emmentel cheese, which had holes in it and looked cool.  And then he pulled out Dean’s bed for him and closed the curtains and was waiting by the worktop when Dean got back.

‘You going, then?’ Dean asked lightly.

‘Got my book. Got my sandwich. So I’m going.’

‘Sleep well,’ Dean offered.

‘Yeah, you too,’ Castiel replied, grabbing the book and sandwich as he made to pass him by. ‘Night.’

‘Night, Cas.’

There was no awkward lingering tonight, and Dean patted Cas’s face as he passed, a quick double pat on his cheek, the same cheek he’d kissed two days ago.

When Castiel got to his bedroom, all he could do was think about the fact that Dean’s robe had been open, not tied and all where this morning it had still be tired looely and he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and about the fact that days seemed to be getting easier and less pressure filled. He liked that things were getting better, but couldn’t help but feat that with the days flying by in their ease, that this experience would be over too quickly, before it had even begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited this while hanging out with my brother.
> 
> He asked his husband if he'd cook lasagna so it'll be ready when my brother gets home from work. 
> 
> Reason number 48, 973 Dean and Cas should be married. Because a real actual married couple parallel them.  
> *foreshadows violently*
> 
> Can these two just kiss already? Ugh. Come on guys. Get your shit together.


	17. Angels and Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, this is not the last chapter, do not be alarmed by the title of it.

Friday’s awakening was less exciting than Thursday’s. It was at Dean’s hand, like the previous day’s, but it wasn’t on purpose, and Castiel awoke with a violent jolt to a violent hissed swear by Dean who had woken Cas by whacking his elbow on the door frame as he came out of the bathroom.

‘Right on the fucking funny bone. Morning, Cas. Feel like cutting my fucking arm off?’

‘Maybe later,’ Castiel offered. ‘I don’t think it would be wise to get blood on the carpet. And I don’t have a saw.’

‘There’s one in the car,’ Dean groaned, still cradling his elbow as pain shot up and down his arm, or rather the nerve the bone covered. ‘We use it to cut up bodies sometimes so they burn easier.’

‘What a nice mental image to wake up to,’ Castiel sighed sarcastically, pushing himself up into a sitting position. ‘Blood and gore. As if I don’t get enough of that in my waking hours what with my past and my current reading of A Game of Thrones.’

‘It’s gonna fucking fall off,’ Dean whined, sitting on the edge of Cas’s bed. ‘It’s numb now. It doesn’t hurt anymore.’

‘Oh, grow up,’ Castiel muttered, rolling his eyes and tossing pillow at Dean.

Dean, who was cradling his elbow in his hand, didn’t bat an eyelid when the pillow hit him in the face. He continued on as if nothing had even happened.

‘Sorry for waking you,’ Dean said apologetically, smiling awkwardly. ‘Didn’t mean to do that.’

‘It’s okay,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I was having an unpleasant dream anyway. It was Metatron saying there was no way to get the angels back into heaven … I know that can’t be true, but I’d rather not have that swimming around in my subconscious. So thank you for the awakening.’

‘No problem,’ Dean replied with a horrifying feeling of sudden guilt at Cas’s dream. ‘Or thank the doorframe. It fucking jumped out at me, I swear. I’m not stupid enough to bang my elbow into that.’

‘And I’m not stupid enough to fall for that or even humor you and thank a piece of wood,’ Castiel replied smartly. ‘Does it still hurt?’

‘A little,’ Dean said glumly. ‘But it’s fading. These things usually throb and then go numb and then ache for a minute or two. But I’ll be fine.’

‘Oh no, not you,’ Castiel clarified quickly with a frown. ‘I meant the door frame. Does it still hurt after your elbow attacked it?’

Dean ceased in cradling his elbow and dropped his arms flatly.

‘You’re mean and sarcastic even after just waking up,’ he stated sulkily. ‘That’s not fair. You’re supposed to like … need some warm up time. Tell a trail of bad jokes leading up to a good one.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel lied. ‘Would you rather I start off with a bad knock knock or chicken crossing the road joke?’

‘Yeah, please, that’d really help.’

‘Too bad. I don’t know any and I’m not going to make any up.’

‘You suck.’

‘So you’ve said, many times.’

‘Okay, then you blow.’

‘Opposite things, yet both mean the same thing when used as in insult or as a sexual term. English is an odd language, don’t you think?’

‘I guess so,’ Dean frowned, thinking about it. ‘And can I ask you something about it real quick?’

‘Bear in mind that I just woke up, but go on.’

‘Why the _fuck_ is bologna spelled that way?’

Castiel sighed. As if he knew that … but he had to humor Dean.

‘Because Lucifer invented it. And if you recall, his personality matches the trunk he put on the mammoth …’

‘Really?’ Dean asked uncertainly. ‘Bologna is good. I thought it might have been Gabriel. Good shit but weird spelling to piss people off and fuck them up.’

‘Okay, never mind,’ Castiel corrected himself, ‘you were right. I messed up. I got confused, I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ Dean brushed off. ‘You just woke up, you don’t know what you’re saying. Look at you, your hair’s a mess and you’re all exposed and you’ve got a big blob of something in your left eye.’

Castiel’s finger jumped to his eye and picked off the gooey thing that was also crunchy in places and that was incredibly satisfying to pick off. He looked back at Dean and couldn’t help but notice Dean was eyeing him from the waist up, which was in fact exposed like he’d mentioned. He flexed internally, hoping it presented a harder, more impressive exterior.

He felt an obvious flex. Fuck. Hadn’t meant for that to happen.

‘One of your pecks just twitched at me,’ Dean said in surprise and confusing, frowning at it. ‘It looks like it’s poised to attack.’

‘Quit staring,’ Castiel frowned at him, making to cover up but he couldn’t because Dean was still sitting on his bed, trapping the covers.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Dean replied, looking away.

Damn it. Cas had been hoping he’d make some kind of comment. He guessed he could take “poised to attack” or maybe even be satisfied with the fact that Dean was confirmed to be looking in the first place.

‘It’s fine,’ Castiel assured him. ‘You can’t help looking, it’s my fault for not wearing a shirt. It’s hot.’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Dean agreed before realizing he meant the temperature. ‘We’ve talked about it before. Heat getting trapped in the room. And it’s more comfortable to sleep without a shirt, I guess.’

‘It is,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Truthfully, it may be hot, but I could sleep with one on. It’s for comfort reasons that I don’t wear one. Like there’s times when you turn over and it just …’

‘Your shirt gets all twisted under you unless you raise yourself up every time,’ Dean agreed. ‘Yeah, I know. It’s even worse if you sleep in a robe if it’s cold. You roll over once and the whole fucking thing is trapped under your leg in a ball behind you except for the arms.’

‘That sounds uncomfortable.’

‘It is,’ Dean told him. ‘Or if it gets trapped under your hip, man that’s uncomfortable too. Worse. It gets all bunched up and it’s just there like … ugh. It took me a while to figure out that it didn’t do that if I tied it.’

‘You hadn’t been tying it?’

‘Tired. Couldn’t be bothered. Then one night I did and the problem was still there … but only in the legs. So there’s some advice for you about sleeping if it’s cold.’

‘Noted. Thank you.’

Dean nodded.

‘I’m gonna go now. Make some coffee, put my bed away. Don’t bother making yours, I’ll do it when I’m putting my stuff on it.’

‘It’s about time you made mine,’ Castiel approved. ‘I’ve been pulling yours out every night.’

‘Yeah, see, I owe you,’ Dean agreed, standing up. ‘Later, buddy,’ he added at the end before he went, reaching over to pat Cas’s shoulder before he left.

His bare shoulder.

He patted Cas’s bare fucking shoulder complete with muscle and hot skin and all.

Cas’s shoulder was so fucking tan.

 _Cas_ was so fucking tan.

Why was Cas so tan? Like, damn.

Anyway … he hadn’t even gotten to see Cas’s reaction to the shoulder pat without a barrier before he left and closed the door behind him.

But it was just a shoulder. It wasn’t his collarbone. Or his chest.

Oh man, that flex.

It didn’t look like it had been purposeful. Just casual in Cas’s movement, and Cas had tensed when Dean mentioned his exposure. But he hadn’t tried to cover up.

So, they were getting more casual with some form of nudity, waist up nudity, if that could even be called nudity.

Good things. All good things.

Which, as it so happened, was what the day entailed.

Cas had toast for breakfast for a change away from cereal, with butter on two slices and Nutella on the other two, and he had coffee and so did Dean and they sat across from each other and spoke about casual things. Castiel ended up asking Dean how he’d learned to cook, and Dean told him about classes at school he took to improve the range of things he could make for Sam.

‘I was sixteen the first time I tried cooking outside of school,’ Dean recounted. ‘We were staying in this motel. We were there for two months so it was a good one and it had a kitchen area, and I saved up for weeks to buy all of the ingredients I remembered from class.’

‘And?’

‘And … two kids, one bathroom and food poisoning don’t go well together. I was so focused on the ingredients that I completely forgot the method. Dad didn’t like coming back to that.’

Castiel started laughing. Dean didn’t even glare at him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Cas proclaimed, ‘it’s not funny. But it sounds funny.’

‘It wasn’t then,’ Dean disapproved. ‘But it is now. Sam clogged the drain in the bath with vomit, and then the sink. So dad bought buckets and got us a new room.’

‘Sounds fun.’

‘Oh, so fun. Even more fun when we finally got better and dad yelled at me. Jokes on him though, because two weeks later he actually attempted to make us breakfast with eggs that expired eleven days before so now it was _his_ fault we were sick.’

‘Your childhood stories never fail to astound me,’ Castiel replied, listening intently.

‘Well, buckle up, because you’re in for a roller coaster.’

The stories took them past breakfast, past some casual after breakfast chatter and right into the car, with some unmentioned hand holding and back touching (for show, as they left the elevator together when it had two other people in it, Castiel had placed his hand on Dean’s lower back to urge him out first, Castiel following) to keep things exciting. Eventually, with Cas’s probing questions and interest, Dean just gave up on random stories from here and there, and instead, began to relay everything of note that he could remember from as early as he could remember right up to before he died and then met Cas.

Cas, in turn, relayed his own tales as he and Dean swept their way around the farmer’s market, and when Castiel got up to as far as what was going on behind the scenes shortly after he met Dean, he had to stop because there. Was a fucking. PIE. SHOP.

Cas vaguely wondered if Dean would ever look at him as lovingly as he looked at pie.

Doubtful.

Even if Dean loved him it would still be doubtful.

All talk of anything besides what they were seeing around then stopped as they discovered this market was not the typical market Dean had been expecting with stalls to wander through and produce to pick up. There were stores, there were restaurants, there were shops. Dean bought most of his ingredients for future dishes right off the bat and for perishables such as various lumps of various cheeses he asked to be held for him to be picked up later when they were leaving.

They ate their sandwiches intended for lunch as they walked around and they got ice cream for afterwards, and they still ended up getting lunch an hour later before they ventured out again for another hour and a half before returning home with all of the food they’d bought, which they stuffed the cupboards and fridge with.

The day, like the last two, had flown by pretty quickly with it being three o’clock now. Castiel sat on the couch and watched Dean put things away, eating some strawberries as he watched which he’d been eating ever since they’d gotten into the car for the journey back, on and off.

‘So you really, really like cheese,’ Cas commented as Dean struggled to find room for it in the fridge, taking out the last two sandwiches he’d made last night to make room.

‘Some people think all cheese tastes the same, but mostly the same, but that’s not true,’ Dean informed him as he fitted things into the fridge more easily now. ‘They all taste different even if only a little. Some work better together than others. It’s all a process of experimentation and elimination.’

‘Isn’t everything?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows as Dean closed the fridge.

‘Pretty much,’ Dean agreed, now seizing the sandwiches he’d removed and unwrapping them. ‘But that’s how things just … work most of the time. And then when there’s something right that you don’t need elimination or experimentation to know is a good thing or bad thing, you end up doing it all anyway because it’s what you’re used to.’

‘You have a lot of knowledge about life,’ Castiel realized, watching Dean use the grill to toast the sandwiches. ‘You said I was wise the other day, but you are too.’

‘Am I?’ Dean asked in surprise.

‘Yes, you are.’

‘Well, who knew?’ he asked, grinning as if he hadn’t known and it pleased him.

They had toasted turkey sandwiches with cheese and slices of packaged beef, and Dean made some of the new coffee they’d picked up which was stronger and vaguely nutty. The ended up slipping back into the topic of conversation they’d abandoned when Dean had spotted the pie shop hours earlier, Cas continuing where he’d left off in describing his life and his actions that Dean didn’t know of, and Dean listened with utmost intensity until they ended up slipping out of it and into more casual topics which ranged from the world around them to which ice cream flavor was best that they’d gotten during the day.

They had pasta that night, mixed in with the last of the sauce Dean hadn’t used in the lasagna on Wednesday, some parmesan cheese and bits of turkey leftover from yesterday, and then they read together, played some Candy Crush and Dean pulled out a deck of cards afterward and ended up teaching Cas a few games, playing just for fun, although for a while there Dean was very tempted to suggest a game of strip poker, though he thought it best not.

They changed into their night things around eight and did the dishes together, then put on the TV. There was nothing in particular they got invested in watching, but they did enjoy some casual light viewing over the next few hours, among other things, and then suddenly it was almost eleven which was weird because it felt like they’d only woken up an hour or two ago.

And in the morning when Cas woke up he could’ve sworn it was only ten minutes ago that he and Dean had gone into the bedroom together so Dean could get the things for his bed, which for once Cas hadn’t pulled out for him, and they’d gotten distracted at the glass door talking about the view they could see from it, the moon and stars illuminating the world beyond the balcony outside.

And then Dean had left, their shoulders brushing together on his way out, and Cas had gone to bed.

And then he’d woken up feeling well rested and comfortable, the day before like a dream to him, but it wasn’t. His phone said it was Saturday, and they had nothing to do that day, so Castiel read for a while in bed before he went to get breakfast.

Dean knocked on the door while Cas was reading.

‘Thought I’d better knock because I heard page turning but couldn’t be sure,’ Dean grinned at him in morning greeting. ‘Mind if I use the shower?’

‘No, go ahead, I’ll leave you to it.’

‘No, no, don’t,’ Dean insisted, making motions with his hands for Cas to stay where he was as he made to get up. ‘Stay there, I don’t mind. Keep reading.’

So, keep reading Castiel did, and Dean disappeared into the bathroom completely at ease, and his thoughts weren’t even racing about Cas’s shirtless and casual state and the muscles in his arms and shoulders that he could see, because he was used to it now and he was cool.

And he didn’t have any strong thoughts about Cas seeing him in his untied robe with no shirt beneath it either, because they were past that.

They did that now, the shirtless thing.

Dean wondered if they’d ever do the pantsless thing.

Or the shirtless and pantsless and underwearless thing together in the bed Cas was reading in, or the shower Dean was standing in, or on the sofa where they sat or the kitchen table where they ate.

 _There_ it was.

So, not so casual then, and not so used to it, because now Dean was getting himself at the thought of all that while he was in the shower and Cas was casually in the next room. And the thought of Cas so close by only fueled him.

When Dean left the bathroom, feeling clean and satisfied, Castiel was on his back, staring at the ceiling, with the book closed on his chest.

‘… Cas?’ Dean asked, worried for a moment.

‘Dragons,’ Castiel stated.

‘Ah.’

‘ _Dragons_ , Dean,’ Castiel stressed, swinging his legs sideways so that he could sit up on the edge of his bed, the book falling into his lap, to look up at Dean.

‘I know.’

Cas’s stomach looked cute. Cas’s collarbone looked hot. And Cas’s neck stretched looking up at him, his throat more exposed than it had ever been, looked like it should have Dean’s lips on it.

‘This … this changes everything.’

‘Yup.’

‘And she’s fourteen. She’s _fourteen_.’

‘I know,’ Dean agreed, taking a seat next to him. Dean’s clothed shoulder was pressed against Cas’s unclothed one. ‘So, you liked it, huh?’

‘Immensely,’ Castiel said with some enthusiastic nodding. ‘I’m starting the next book right after I get dressed. I might go out to the balcony. Or … no, maybe out to the garden again instead. It was nice out there.’

‘Bring a jacket this time,’ Dean suggested. ‘Or, you know, go like this,’ he shrugged, gesturing Cas’s half naked state. ‘Your call.’

‘Maybe I’ll go like this,’ Castiel joked. ‘I’ll give people something to look at. Something to admire.’

‘That’s the spirit.’

‘What are you going to do today?’

‘Sam texted me,’ Dean said truthfully. ‘Some stuff about what he’s up to, working on the bigger issue here. He heard of a case he thought might be related but he can’t confirm it was angels, he’s on his way to it now. So I think I’ll stay in and call him. Unless you’d rather I come with you or something …’

 _Please, please say yes and let me be with you_ , Dean begged. _So I don’t have to lie to you later if this is an angel thing and getting them back into heaven comes up_.

‘No, that’s okay,’ Castiel shrugged. His shoulders, which Dean struggled to see thanks to being seated right next to him, looked good when they were naked and shrugging. ‘Call Sam. It could be important. And let me know if it is.’

‘Don’t worry, I will,’ Dean promised. ‘So, are you having breakfast before or after getting dressed?’

‘After,’ Castiel decided. ‘I need to wash away the shock yet … slight expectancy of the surprise of the dragons. _Dragons_. Three of them. _Three_.’

Dean laughed at Cas’s wonder, something precious about it.

‘You do that,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll wait until you leave to call Sam. You know in case he hears anything that’s a giveaway to you being here.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Castiel nodded.

‘Well,’ Dean sighed, getting to his feet, ‘see you in a few.’

He put his hand on Cas’s bare shoulder for the second time ever before he left.

Castiel was eager to start the next book, so he wasted no time in speeding through all of his activities. He barely lingered on the memory of Dean’s hand on his shoulder, warm and firm, as it had been yesterday. He liked the thought of Dean’s hands on his shoulders and the thought of Dean perhaps perched on his lap, naked, hands on his shoulders, Cas’s hands on Dean’s waist.

That was a fantasy he’d indulge later. But right now he just needed to fucking know what was going to happen after all of that stuff that had gone down at the end of A Game of Thrones, and A Clash of Kinds was eagerly awaiting him on the bedside table next to his neatly made bed when he exited the bathroom, made by Dean as it had been yesterday too. He grabbed it on his way out to the kitchen and he didn’t bother with coffee when he got there, just got some cereal and sat at the table, looking over at Dean reading on the sofa.

And then the world began to slow down for him instead of whirring by in a flurry of color and encounters and touches, because Dean was sitting on the sofa and reading. And he looked beautiful.

Dean had never seemed like someone who liked to read, and when Cas had found the book in the car that day he’d been pleasantly surprised, and since then he only saw Dean read when they were both reading together. But there Dean was, reading along alone with headphones on, completely oblivious to the fact that Castiel had emerged from the bedroom at all.

So Cas took his bowl over and sat next to Dean, to read beside him and see what place he was at and see if he could see any reaction to the happenings on Dean’s face.

Dean noticed Cas when he sat down and closed his book over his thumb and with his other hand he pushed back his headphones so he had one ear free.

‘Hey,’ he grinned.

‘What are you listening to?’ Castiel asked conversationally.

‘Uh …’ Dean tried to come up with a lie. ‘Green Day.’

Okay, so, not exactly classic rock, but Cas didn’t know that. But it was better than saying “Shrek the Musical’s soundtrack” which was annoying catchy, and made Dean wonder what the musical, which had only come out this year as far as he knew, was like. And not only was it catchy, but it was vaguely relatable, too, with Shrek and Fiona bitching about bad childhoods, and one song where Shrek was singing about wanting to be a hero.

Shrek was green. Hence, Green Day.

‘I’ve never heard of them’ Castiel commented. ‘Are they good?’

‘They’re okay,’ Dean shrugged, which they were. They were no Nirvana, but they didn’t suck.

‘You can get back to reading now,’ Castiel urged. ‘Sorry for the interruption.’

‘That’s okay,’ Dean told him with a miniscule laugh, pushing his headphones back on but turning down the volume as he got back to reading.

Castiel watched Dean read until he’d finished eating, and the concentration and enjoyment on Dean’s face was not often seen. Usually when he saw Dean read things it was for research and Dean looked like he was in pain as he tried to decipher one thing or the other, and these past few days Cas hadn’t been paying much attention to Dean reading this particular book apart from when they were reading parts of it out loud, so it was the first time he was actually watching Dean read something to himself that he enjoyed, and he was almost sorry to finish eating and then go wash his bowl and disappear momentarily to get his jacket which he’d forgotten to bring out with his book.

‘You going?’ Dean asked when Castiel returned with his jacket on, his phone in his pocket and the keys to the apartment too, in case Dean decided to go out while Cas was out in the garden.

‘I won’t be long,’ Castiel told him, confirming the assumed answer to Dean’s question. ‘A half hour, maybe. I just want to get some fresh air now that there’s no damp in it like there was the other morning.’

‘Understandable,’ Dean nodded. ‘Maybe I’ll join you after. When I’m done on the phone.’

‘That would be nice,’ Castiel smiled as he reached the door. ‘See you later.’

‘Yeah, see you,’ Dean smiled back at him.

Castiel left the apartment, unlocking the door as he did so and relocking it behind him, and set off through the building. The first thing he noticed was the cameras at the end of the hallway, which had evidentially been installed early like promised after the incidents with the messages, although it had still taken several days. He wondered if whatever this was could even be caught on camera, or perhaps would be disheartened by the presence of them and would give up. He doubted the latter, but the former, for some monsters, could be true. Their presence would cause a glitch, or reveal glowing eyes, or some other obscenity.

The building was quiet like it was most mornings, and the outdoors was peaceful. When he reached the garden, book under his arm, Castiel discovered a number of other people had had the same idea as him, and here and there dotted around were readers, or writers and picnickers too, and in the distance across the grass there were two young boys playing with a ball. There were two families Castiel could see dotted around, one of which he recognized from Wednesday and the parking lot, the other he didn’t, and both of those had taken up spots in the grass with blankets and some toys and were enjoying the bright, cool morning sunshine and breeze.

Castiel sat on an empty bench and opened his book, and was disappointed and not surprised to find the opening lines were not a direct continuation on the closing ones of the last book, but it quickly grabbed all of his attention and he read two chapters quickly, and he was moving onto the third when he felt someone sit next to him that he immediately knew simply by the presence was not Dean. He figured it was just a stranger, looking for somewhere to sit, so the opposite end of the bench that was meant to be sat on by all must have seemed like the perfect place, and Castiel didn’t mind sharing his reading space at all.

That was, until the stranger spoke to him.

‘Hello, Castiel.’

Castiel closed his book and found himself looking across into the golden-brown eyes of a perfect stranger, slightly familiar in his strangerness. If Cas was asked he’d say it was the man who had gotten out of that car in the parking lot Wednesday, and a glance over at that family and the absence of one member confirmed that theory.

‘Uh … hi,’ Castiel replied awkwardly. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘My name is Hasdiel,’ the stranger replied.

Hasdiel. Oh, wow. Hasdiel. Cas knew that name. He knew that name, he’d heard the stories of Hasdiel when he was in heaven, but had never thought them true. Some stories said he died, but others …

‘Hasdiel angel of benevolence,’ Castiel stated. ‘So it seems you survived the fall after all.’

Not the falling of the angels that Castiel had been a part of. But a fall that had happened not that many years ago actually, where a group of angels fell from heaven, or rather were dropped, several but not many years apart, and no one ever knew what became of them.

‘I’d hardly say I’m the angel of benevolence,’ Hasdiel frowned at him, leaning back against the back of the bench. ‘First of all I’d have to be an angel for that. And second of all there are people more benevolent than I am. My husband, for example,’ he gestured, over to his family where the man who seemed to be his husband was drawing as one of the children posed.

‘You’re married.’

‘So is Rachiel.’

‘Rachiel, the angel who governs Venus and governs sexuality.’

‘Yeah, her,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘She’s not an angel anymore either. But she’s still pretty big on the whole sexuality thing. She’s comfortable with it. Likes to show skin. I haven’t seen her wear a shirt that covers her stomach in years, not since she had her last son.’

‘Rachiel has children?’

‘Yeah, two. I have four though one of them is hardly a child, she’s twenty. And the others … haven’t gotten lucky yet, but you never know. Barman should hurry up if he wants that though. He’s fifty two.’

Barman, angel of intelligence.

The other angels that had been included in this fall staggered over years were Galagliel prince of the sun, Sablo angel of graciousness and protection, Maramoth with the power to thwart faith, Carmael chief of angel powers and Jael, a cherub who guarded the ark of covenant. Jael had fallen only less than fifteen years ago.

‘What happened to all of you?’ Castiel asked, frowning at Hasdiel.

‘There were a couple of missionaries who saved the lives of hundreds of children, but could have none of their own,’ Hasdiel explained. ‘So they were gifted with knowledge, and with former angels, who grew up human. Seven in total, with pretty major age differences. It was one angel child per one major good deed. I was fourth. It’ll be forty three years this Christmas since I was born.

‘You were _born_?’

‘Rather than being given vessels, our grace was taken and made into a human body, carried and protected by our mother no matter her age,’ Hasdiel shrugged. ‘I’m human, Castiel, but with all of the memories of my former life. And I was able to recognize you from that. I can tell you’re human, too.’

‘Metatron stole my grace for the spell that locked all of the angels out of heaven. I was never as lucky as you were, or any of the others.’

‘Yikes,’ Hasdiel muttered, sucking in a breath. ‘That must have hurt.’

‘It did. But not as much as injuries I’ve gotten while _being_ human. As soon as I fell I got hit by a car, and then I hurt my wrist a few weeks later fighting off one of our … or, what we were, kind.’

‘That sucks,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘I’ve never been through anything like that, thankfully. Galagliel sprained his knee on stage once. It was his first major injury and it took forty three years to happen about three years ago.’

‘On stage?’

‘We’re in a band,’ Hasdiel shrugged. ‘The others all live in Los Angeles. David and I – my husband – moved out here with our kids when this building opened because it sounded appealing.’

‘Your kids,’ Castiel repeated in disbelief. ‘Your husband … and you were an angel. How … I mean … not how, you’re human, but … with knowledge of what you were …’

‘What I was doesn’t matter,’ Hasdiel shrugged. ‘My life began when I got to Earth, so I grew up, found a couple of girlfriends and we had a kid.’

‘A couple?’

‘Polyamory,’ Hasdiel shrugged. ‘I married one of them. We got divorced because my wife, Aurelia, she was a lesbian. And Katya and her ended up married after that, so that was pretty cool. And it worked out well because it turns out I’m gay too, and I married David a little over a year ago.’

‘Just a year?’

‘I met him eight years ago, though,’ Hasdiel informed him. ‘Took six and half years for us together – literally three days before our six and a half year meeting anniversary. We got married on November second of last year, and five years before that, my sister Rachiel married David’s younger brother August. And Sablo and David’s youngest brother have been seeing each other for a month now, too. It seems we former angels like our hunters.’

‘Your _what_?’

‘Hunters,’ Hasdiel repeated. ‘Hunting monsters and demons and the like. Surely you’ve heard of hunters.’

‘My … boyfriend’s a hunter,’ Castiel lied.

‘Seriously?’

‘Yes. His name is Dean, Dean Winchester.’

‘I think I’ve heard of him.’

‘Most angels have, even if they’re not angels,’ Castiel half-laughed. ‘So … your husband’s a hunter.’

‘He used to be,’ Hasdiel corrected himself. ‘He quit when our youngest daughter was born. She’ll be four in February.’

‘If you’ve only been together for … since last year, how is it that you have children together?’ Castiel asked.

‘I had three with my ex-wife and girlfriend,’ Hasdiel explained, ‘and he and his friend had a one night stand and had one from that. And he’s been like a second father to two of our kids through they were technically just “mine” then since they were born, the oldest since she was a year old. He knew my wife before I knew him, nineteen years ago, which is how he knew our oldest.’

‘That’s …’

‘Messy, yeah. And it just seemed to get even messier when all three mothers of our children passed away leaving us the sole parents … it’s messy and it’s human and something entirely unexpected of an angel, but then again angel expectations were always ridiculous. We’re people too, even if most of us aren’t human or weren’t always.’

‘I find it admirable that you adapted to humanity so well,’ Castiel admitted. ‘It’s been harder for me.’

‘It was hard growing up for me, too,’ Hasdiel nodded, agreeing. ‘The memory of being an angel all that, it’s hard on a kid. I could’ve easily acted like the perfect little angel I once was … it’s really all about letting yourself go and _be_ human. Rachiel had no trouble with that, nor has Jael had any, but the others and I struggled, Sablo the most of all. It’s only recently he’s let himself truly embrace his humanity, after twenty three years.’

Twenty three. Forty three. Fifty two. Less than fifteen. Castiel was beginning to feel sorry for the mother who had to give birth seven times, likely at an age, were it a normal pregnancy, it would be dangerous and near impossible to have a child at all.

‘I understand how Sablo feels,’ Castiel muttered. ‘It’s been hard. Very hard for me … even just moving here has been hard, embracing humanity especially around someone I’ve never wanted to disappoint or let down …’

‘Your boyfriend,’ Hasdiel stated.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘I was afraid he’d look down on me, for showing human weakness. But I think, like Sablo, I’m starting to overcome that.’

‘Good,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘I can understand it could be hard to be with someone being an angel and then suddenly everything changes. Jarring. When you’re an angel … it’s almost like they don’t look at you the same way. David found out about my past and despite being a hunter he was freaked. And then he was jazzed and saw me as some kind of superior being. It took a while for that to fade out.’

‘I’m not sure I can relate to that,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Dean … he and I have a complicated past. A history. When I came to earth it was as a soldier on a mission to stop the apocalypse.’

‘That was you?’

‘Us,’ Castiel nodded, clarifying. ‘Although we also started it. Dean’s brother Sam broke the final seal, Dean broke the first one and I was sort of an enabler at times. But we stopped it in the end.’

‘Good,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘Sorry. I interrupted something. Go on.’

‘As I was saying,’ Castiel continued, ‘I wasn’t here to end up forming relationships with anyone. But it happened, despite being an angel. I know Dean, and his brother Sam, in the past have seen the fact that I’m – or, I was – an angel as a tool, seen me as something useful to help them with their problems, but at the same time that tool has just been … an added bonus. Despite having wings, there are times Dean made me travel with them by car. Despite being from a different background entirely, Dean tried, and failed at times, to get me to experience human things. And Dean has said, repeatedly, that the fact that I was an angel and I’m no longer one doesn’t matter, because once he got past the shock initially I presume, he stopped seeing angel, human, whatever else, he’s just seen … me.’

Hasdiel sat, digesting this. He looked like he sighed although he didn’t make a sound, and then he smiled.

‘You’re lucky,’ Hasdiel said after a pause. ‘You and I, we’re both lucky. My sister, my brothers … anyone who was even an angel for any period of time and has managed to find their happy ending here with humanity … well, they’re the luckiest.’

‘Happy ending,’ Castiel muttered. ‘I’m not sure about that. There are all kinds of things we’re involved in right now … they would never allow for that.’

‘It’s not the circumstance,’ Hasdiel corrected. ‘It’s the attitude. It’s all about _letting_ yourself get the ending you have to grow to feel you deserve. Why do you think it took David and I so long to end up together and to embrace the fact that we’ve been a family the entire time we’ve known each other? Look at them, Castiel. Really look at them, and know that it’s always been like this, it was just that we were both too blinded by our own self-doubt that we didn’t allow ourselves to embrace what it was. Nothing has changed but the acceptance.’

Cas looked over at Hasdiel’s family. A little boy, six or seven, was playing with a remote control airplane, and his sister, four maybe, was chasing it as it flew. David, the husband, was still drawing the daughter that looked to be the youngest, but possibly close in age to the other daughter. Hasdiel had mentioned one of them turning for in February … possibly her, then. And since he’d last looked, a new arrival had come, and he could see the back of a blonde head of who was presumably the twenty year old. They looked … happy.

But when Castiel _really_ looked … he saw that they looked … casual. They didn’t scream a big happy ending, they didn’t scream anything at all, they just looked like a group of people enjoying themselves and doing some fun activities together.

Castiel wondered why he and Dean, who also enjoyed themselves and did fun activities together, didn’t look so happy at first glance. Hasdiel said the situation had always been the same, but things were different now because they had embraced the happiness they deserved …

And that was the problem.

Castiel could never have such a happiness that radiated out from just a glance, because he didn’t feel he deserved that. He felt _Dean_ did, but not with him. Someone better. Someone who could give him everything he deserved.

Castiel would never get his “happy ending” because he couldn’t embrace the fact that he deserved one, because he just simply didn’t deserve one.

An angel and a hunter fell in love and got everything they wanted.

It couldn’t happen twice.

Hasdiel’s life was everything Castiel’s could have been if he just embraced it, yet he knew he never would.

‘I understand,’ Castel stated, and he did. He’d been enlightened, and it had crushed him, but it didn’t change anything because he’d already known what he couldn’t have anyway. ‘Thank you for … helping me see. Angels and former angels can get … all kinds of endings on Earth, as rare as angels on Earth is.’

‘I wouldn’t say it’s rare,’ Hasdiel said casually, frowning at Cas. ‘There’s more angels down here than you think. Angels are everywhere, whether they fell as humans like I did, whether they came here on purpose for good, or even for bad. Angels are lurking around every corner … they’re just hard to spot, because to most angels what they’ve become is so unexpected they could never tell.’

‘I could never peg you for a former angel,’ Castiel said in agreement.

‘If I wasn’t one, I could never peg you as one, either,’ Hasdiel admitted. ‘You look like you’ve begun to embrace humanity. You’re not completely there, but … you’re on your way. I’d say you’ll get there, if you let it happen. And then, even one of us won’t even be able to tell.’

But Castiel couldn’t let it happen. Because this was temporary, being here with Dean, and if he let himself fall into complete humanity and embrace that … to go back would be agonizing and more pain than he could bear.

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Castiel smiled at him. ‘So … what is it that you do now? If your husband is no longer a hunter, and you’ve always been human in this lifetime …’

‘David is an art and dance teacher, and I teach music,’ Hasdiel told him. ‘And on the side we play in a band with two of my brothers and my sister, in local bars and in bars that are local to the other three in LA. It sounds like a mundane life compared to the hunter’s life we used to lead up until almost four years ago, but it’s the life we enjoy.’

‘Were you a hunter?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yes,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘I got into it early on. My wife came from a family of Columbian hunters and became one herself and me along with her, and my girlfriend came from a background of hunters too but instead of doing it, she wrote about it. She wrote quite a few books actually, comedies about a family of Russian hunters – her family originally came from there – that got her to do a few book signings and meet and greets here and there while she was alive.’

Columbia. Russia. Heaven.

‘Where do you consider yourself to be from?’ Castiel inquired.

‘Originally?’ Hasdiel asked. ‘Heaven, I admit that. But in life? America, though originally in this life, Latin America specifically. My father – not God, my biological father – actually came from Puerto Rico, and my mother from Argentina. Again, not exactly expected of a former angel.’

Roots. He had roots. In heaven, and in places on Earth.

‘And … your family?’

‘That’s where it gets even more complicated,’ Hasdiel replied with a sarcastic little eye roll. ‘David’s mother is from Venezuela and his father is half Mexican, meanwhile the mother of our youngest daughter is French Canadian, so David calls himself Latino and American and considers Jay – youngest – to be half Latina but with some French Canadian influences. And then Maddison, her mother is Katya, who’s technically Russian, but we don’t consider Maddison to be Russian much but she’s half Latina too, because of me and because one of her mom’s – two moms, two dads, it’s a mess – and that mom, who moved from Columbia when she was sixteen with her family, she’s the biological mother of Chester and Kat, my son and oldest daughter, and they’re full Latino and Latina because of that, or at least that’s what we consider them to be and they seem to identify as. And I can tell you seem surprised by all of this.’

‘I am,’ Castiel admitted. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just … fascinated by all of the connections you have to countries on Earth. It makes sense, you were born here, you have real, blood relatives where other angels don’t, and are still from heaven despite living and forming roots on Earth …’

‘I get it. Someone asks where you’re from, you say heaven, even though you’ve been on Earth for years. You wouldn’t, say, call yourself an American.’

‘I’m not,’ Castiel shrugged, finding that thought ridiculous. ‘I’ve been here since two thousand and eight. Five years. That’s barely a time at all. I’m _from_ heaven, I have no Earthly nationality, it’s just where I live now.’

 _Live_. Cas had never really thought about the fact that he _lived_ on Earth. It’s where he was, but living … he _was_ living on Earth, and had been for years.

Castiel _lived_ on Earth.

Not just in an apartment with Dean on a case, but even without a specific home, he still lived on Earth.

‘That makes sense,’ Hasdiel nodded. ‘I guess everyone’s different. People form connections with different places at the end of the day, and it’s really up to them to choose.’

‘Exactly,’ Castiel agreed.

‘Cas?’

Castiel looked up and saw Dean walking towards him and felt a fluttering in his heart when he saw the thing that could be the happy ending he could get on Earth, but didn’t deserve for himself, or deserve to inflict on Dean when he didn’t feel the same way.

‘Dean,’ Castiel greeted, and he couldn’t help the smile that started to spread over his face.

‘Hey,’ Dean grinned at him, the grin quickly falling back into a neutral look. ‘Sorry, I’m not interrupting am I?’

‘No, you’re not,’ Hasdiel replied, a stranger to Dean. ‘I just … came over to talk about the book Castiel is reading. My husband and I watch the show but I’m still on the first book. He keeps telling me to read them.’

‘You should,’ Castiel encouraged. ‘They’re good, or at least the first one is.’

‘I agree,’ said Dean. ‘And they’re _all_ good.’

‘I’m _trying_ ,’ Hasdiel stressed. ‘But they’re so _long_ … anyway, I should be getting back over to them,’ he gestured his family. ‘David said he was going to make lasagna for lunch and we could have the leftovers during movie night tonight. So I should be around so he doesn’t think his kitchen assistant has abounded him in his time of need.’

Cooking lasagna. Movie nights … Castiel felt an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he thought of a real married couple and a real family doing the things that he and Dean, friends posing as a couple, had been doing.

‘Enjoy that,’ Castiel offered.

‘I will,’ Hasdiel nodded, getting to his feet. ‘See you around.’

‘See you,’ Castiel replied.

Hasdiel smiled at him, nodded at Dean, and walked off, one of his daughters already racing towards him having abandoned her pursuit of the plane her brother was flying.

‘So, making friends again,’ Dean commented, sitting next to Cas. Castiel couldn’t help but notice he’d sat much closer than Hasdiel had been sitting.

‘The people in the area are friendly,’ Castiel shrugged, looking at Dean who was looking at him with the hint of a twinkle in his eyes, which he’d been seeing more frequently lately, that twinkle usually only appearing when he smiled about something he was truly happy about. The twinkle had been rarely seen for years, and part of Cas couldn’t help but think that once this experience was over it would become as rare as it had been before.

Not that _he_ was causing the twinkle. It was just … the area and the living in a nice apartment and getting to relax on a seemingly easy, slow paced and extremely weird case.

‘Seems like it,’ Dean agreed. ‘Damn, I really need to watch Game of Thrones. Charlie needs to hurry her ass up and visit so we can watch it together, otherwise I might end up breaking that promise I made her.’

‘Don’t break your promises,’ Castiel disapproved. ‘Just stick to rereading the books. I’m sure they can hold you over until she visits.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Dean chuckled, throwing his arm around Cas’s shoulders.

 _It’s for show_ , Castiel reminded himself, trying not to dwell on the fact that over with his family, Hasdiel now had his arm around his husband, who was still drawing their daughter. _It’s not real. We can’t have that_.

‘I like the second book so far,’ Castiel piped up.

‘Good,’ Dean grinned. ‘And hey man, sorry it took me so long to get out here. Sam talked my ear off.’

‘How long has it been since I came out?’ Castiel asked.

‘Forty five minutes.’

Damn. Castiel must have been talking for a _while_. He supposed, there had been a few prolonged pensive pauses …

‘So … what had Sam got to say?’ Castiel asked.

‘The case wasn’t anything huge, but it _was_ angel related,’ Dean told him. ‘It seems like one angel that’s been jumping from vessel to vessel and every one left behind ends up an eyeless corpse. Nothing major.’

‘Finding a vessel can be difficult,’ Castiel nodded. ‘And finding a vessel strong enough to hold an angel even more so. A long term vessel is harder to find than a short term one. I should know, I searched for a while before I found a vessel that would be suitable … although, at the time I hadn’t been aware of the fact that long term would then turn into it not being a vessel anymore at all and just become … me.’

‘You’re lucky you chose a hot one, then,’ Dean joked. And then he asked something that had been on his mind for a while, ‘is there any particular reason for angels choosing male or female vessels?’

‘Sometimes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Many angels identify more with either male or female. Personally, I always identified with the male side so that’s the vessel I chose for it being long term, although there was that one time I was willing to choose a female just to get the job done. My vessel’s daughter, if you recall.’

‘I do,’ Dean nodded, understanding.

‘It’s likely I would have gone off in search of a new, long term male vessel once I’d initially done what I needed to do,’ Castiel mused. ‘But of course, there are some angels who don’t mind the gender of their vessel, or perhaps sex being the better word over gender, because there are only two sexes but I’ve discovered a multitude of genders.’

‘So … why don’t they mind?’ Dean asked.

‘Perhaps they don’t identify with anything in particular,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘If you can remember Raphael … a male vessel on Earth to start, and then a female, but a male in heaven. But not all angels so … free sprinted in that sense.’

‘So you like being a dude,’ Dean stated.

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’ve always liked the male form, even as a wavelength of celestial intent. I’ve always found something appealing about this whole thing of “masculinity” that the world and society has created a concept of. I’ve found it appealing to be, and apparently to be attracted to too.’

‘Fair,’ Dean nodded approvingly. ‘So let’s just hope the angel playing a game of musical vessels finds one soon so there’s less bodies to leave behind.’

‘There’s bound to be thousands of casualties in failures in finding vessels for the sheer number of angels that have fallen,’ Castiel sighed. ‘All we can do is hope for the best and hope they’re returned to heaven soon.’

Returning to heaven … something he, personally, would not like to do. Because he lived on Earth, just like Hasdiel, and Hasdiel’s former-angel siblings and possibly others.

‘Yeah, hope,’ Dean muttered, nodding. ‘All we can do. Feel like reading for a while out here? We have some frozen mini-pizzas I was going to cook up for lunch in maybe an hour after if you feel like it. Throw on a little extra cheese, some bits of sliced meat to make things more interesting.’

‘That would be nice,’ Castiel smiled.

‘You can help,’ Dean offered. ‘You can help out ripping the meat up into little pieces. Sound good?’

‘It sounds _great_ ,’ Castiel decided. ‘Almost like … a kitchen assistant.’

Or at least that had been the word Hasdiel had used.

‘Or a sioux-chef to my head chef,’ Dean grinned at him.

‘Even better,’ Castiel nodded determinedly. ‘I think … I think I’m going to read now.’

‘Me too,’ Dean agreed, holding up his book which was in the hand that wasn’t draped lightly over Cas’s shoulder. ‘I need to catch up to you.’

‘Like that will ever happen.’

‘Hey, I can try!’ Dean protested. ‘If I read fast. And if I distract you a lot, like this.’

Dean used the hand draped over Cas’s shoulder to start playfully poking at the air around Cas’s face, waving in front of his eyes. Castiel rolled his eyes, grabbed Dean’s hand and shoved it back down, stationary, and held it there. He used his free hand to flip his book open again and he began reading, and a moment later he heard Dean do the same thing.

They didn’t mention the fact that Dean’s arm was still around Cas, and his hand was still on Cas’s shoulder, and Cas’s hand was keeping it there, finger tips grazing over the rough yet soft skin of Dean’s knuckles.

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked a minute later, looking up from his book.

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked.

‘Do you think there’s more angels like me out there?’ Castiel questioned, hurrying on to explain, ‘like angels who have made lives on Earth, undetected by humanity and mostly undetected by other angels here. Whether they’re here for good, or …’

He didn’t want to think about the fact that it could be true that there were some here for bad, like Hasdiel had mentioned in passing.

‘Maybe,’ Dean nodded thoughtfully. ‘There could be some here … but I wouldn’t say there’s any more like _you_ out there. You’re special, Cas.’

‘You think?’

‘Oh, yeah,’ Dean nodded. He didn’t’ elaborate. ‘Is that all you wanted to ask?’

‘Yeah, that’s it.’

‘Okay. Reading?’

‘Reading,’ Castiel agreed.

Castiel put his eyes back on the page on front of him, and dropped his hand from holding Dean’s so he could get a better grip on keeping the new, stiff and heavy book open. He trusted that Dean wouldn’t move his hand, and he didn’t, and Castiel settled comfortably against Dean’s side. When Dean’s head tilted slightly as he read, Castiel daringly rested his against it for a moment, and then for a longer moment, and then he left it there, and the two of them said nothing as their mutual reading went on.

And even if it was only for a moment, Castiel could pretend to himself that he had gotten the happy ending that he didn’t deserve, but as long as he didn’t tell Dean about it was there really any harm indulging his own fantasies if it was only himself he would be hurting in the process?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the story of the lesbian wife and the polyamory and the kids and the six and a half years of friendship before relationship and then marriage is completely true of my brother and his husband. Also it was pretty fun assigning different angel to me and my siblings who those are totally based on. And do not be alarmed, my mother was never granted angel babies and was never forced to carry 7 of them one of those being in her sixties, my siblings and I have the same father, not the same mother. 
> 
> It's totally okay to put yourself in the story right?? RIGHT"?"?"?!!??!!!/11/?!?? CHUCK DAMN DID IT.
> 
> And as well as my siblings and I not being angels ... of course the three brothers married/dated by me and my siblings are not hunters. ;)
> 
> I swear. 
> 
> I also swear this is going to have a nice, satisfying happy ending. Cross my heart, which is not black as my soul, or at least as my soul was when I had a soul.   
> ^ Edit. This statement has been pointed out in hate comments and I'm gonna be honest and say I completely forgot I said that. And to be quite frank I don't care. Don't say I din't warn you.
> 
> Oh and another fun fact, my brother doesn't have golden brown eyes, they're blue which is unusual for a Latino. We all have blue eyes. But to give him blue eyes ... well then the parallel of Hasdiel and Cas would be too obvious, now wouldn't it?
> 
> Hasdiel's name made me laugh out loud because when researching angels and coming across the perfect angel for this angel I hadn't expected to find one with a name so close to Castiel. Oh well, it works out for the better.
> 
> Also, how would you regular readers feel about a friend of mine doing some art work for the fic, starting at chapter one/introduction and adding one piece per chapter until she's caught up then continuing as they're uploaded? She asked me about it. Here's some examples of her stuff:  
> -Destiel porn (very very porn) https://twitter.com/destieldragrace/status/782593413921275904 / https://twitter.com/destieldragrace/status/782595511249412096 / https://twitter.com/destieldragrace/status/783037496976404480  
> \- Mashup sketch of Jaremi Carey/Phi Phi O'hara (adding as an example of a different style) https://twitter.com/destieldragrace/status/786202119502229504  
> \- Comic about a buttplug https://twitter.com/destieldragrace/status/786673390388142080
> 
> Just an idea. Anyway I'll shut up now.


	18. Cards, Cards, Cards

Castiel was tearing up slices of roast chicken from a packet and placing them onto one of the mini-pizzas, which was approximately an inch or two bigger in circumference than a pancake and arguing his case feverishly against Dean.

‘I’m not saying their chapters are unimportant,’ he groaned, tearing the chicken a little more violently than he had been a minute ago. ‘I’m just saying they’re more boring than those of others … Tyrion, for example. Jon. Daenerys. Arya. They’re both important _and_ entertaining, whereas with Ned and Catelyn, their chapters are important information wise, but aren’t as exciting as the rest. When I see – or saw in Ned’s case – their name at the beginning of a chapter I get disappointed at times, especially if they come after an exciting chapter.’

‘How _dare_ you besmirch the name of the great houses Stark and Tully?’ Dean demanded, tossing down the sliced ham and fixing Cas with a stony and overdramatic glare.

‘I’m not … _besmirching_ anything,’ Castiel insisted, ‘I’m just stating my opinion.’

‘And I accept your opinion,’ Dean nodded evenly. ‘It’s not your fault you’re _wrong_.’

‘Everyone is entitled to their own opinion.’

‘Except when their opinion is the same as yours.’

‘So, you don’t accept others disagreeing with you,’ Castiel stated.

‘Not about these books. Not when they’re calling certain characters boring.’

‘ _They’re_ not boring,’ Castiel stressed, ‘their _chapters_ are boring. Their thought process and the way they view the world.’

‘So you’re essentially calling them boring by extension.’

‘I’m done with my six,’ Castiel declared, taking a step back from the tray which had two rows of six mini-pizzas on it. ‘And I’m done arguing with you. I’m going to read on the balcony. Join me if you feel like being more accepting of the opinions of others.’

‘So I guess I’ll never see you again.’

‘I guess so.’

Castiel snatched his book up from the kitchen table and swept his way through the room and out the doors, holding his façade until he left. Dean watched him go, and then once he saw Cas get settled in a chair he turned back to his task and discovered he’d been tearing up thin air for the past minute or two, and he had a whopping two out of six of his pizzas decorated with extra toppings. He’d been too busy staring at, and arguing with Cas to pay attention.

Dean _did_ respect Cas’s opinion, but as soon as he noticed that he and Cas were heated as they came onto the topic while still outside, he had to amp it up and keep going over the same points in the same way with slightly different wording as they made their way through the building and into the apartment where Dean had pulled out the beginnings of lunch straight away, the two of them falling into their tasks automatically while the argument continued.

He’d show up out there when lunch was ready all apologetic and what not, but for now he had to make Cas think he was pissed, so he could have an excuse for causal touches and nudging, maybe even a friendly and overly-false and dramatic nudge of Cas’s cheek with his fist if he could get it to come to that. Today had been a good day for contact, and he wasn’t about to let it end with their heads resting together to avoid stiff necks from staying upright and looking down, which was surely why Cas had rested their heads together because there was no other reason that Dean could fathom as to why Cas had done such a thing.

And Cas holding Dean’s arm around him for that brief time was clearly because Cas had been cold and needed Dean’s extra body heat. And, naturally, for show of course. But the show could have simply ended with it being around him for a short time, not being held there before he trusted Dean enough to leave it there, hence the reasoning.

Outside, outside … Cas had been doing what looked like some pretty intense talking outside, and he knew Cas wouldn’t lie to him and didn’t know why he would if he would, but it really didn’t look like he and that other guy had been talking about books and TV shows.

It had looked, well … intense, Dean thought once again as he put the mini-pizzas in the oven and veered for the sofa to text Sam and tell him he’d called Cas to tell him about the vessel thing.

That guy looked familiar, too, like a stranger’s face seen in interested passing, unknown but … like he’d seen him before. And recently. In the building, he thought. He might have been one of the guys from the parking lot the other day before he and Cas had overheard that conversation and run into a Supernatural fan but he couldn’t be sure having only seen him for a moment, and then during the glances he’d gotten afterwards while pretending to look inconspicuous not adding to much.

So … the guy had recognized Cas and gone to say hi, probably, and maybe … they’d gotten into talking about some stuff. Like maybe the guy had a rough past and was telling Cas about why he moved to the building, like if he was forced to by a bad situation or something. And then he lied to Dean because he didn’t want to get into it twice.

Yeah, that had to be it.

But there was something just a little … off about the way they’d been talking before Dean had gotten close enough to call out.

_Cas says it’s not a surprise about the vessel hopping. Should happen a lot b/c a lot of angels_

Dean texted Sam and put the thing out of his mind. He didn’t need to know every little word Cas said to other people or every little would other people said to Cas.

“I was about to text him about it” was Sam’s reply, then another fast reply, “How is he?”

Damn, Sam. Always so concerned.

_Hes good. Bought a book at a thrift store. He seems to like it_

Despite not liking chapters by Ned and Catelyn.

“What book?”

_AGOT. Says hes gonna look for the next book after I gave him the name of it_

Well, he had to lie a little. It’s not like Cas would automatically know about the rest of the series.

“What does he think?”

_Thinks Ned &Cat are boring_

“Well they are”

_Shut up no theyre fucking not I just had this argument with him_

“Trouble in paradise?”

Jesus fucking Christ, why was everyone saying that? The old lady at the store, now Sam. Maybe it was the universe playing a cruel joke on him for saying that to the Supernatural fan in the elevator.  The universe was throwing the phrase back at him. Cruelly.

There couldn’t be any fucking paradise because he and Cas weren’t together, end of story. It was just him pining for Cas, Cas being perfectly friendly, the closest thing to paradise being what went on inside Dean’s head when it came to sexual thoughts, and to not so sexual thoughts like when he was falling asleep at night wishing Cas was there, or like when they were eating together and he wished he could reach across the table and grab Cas’s hand.

 _Shut up Sammy_ , Dean texted back in a huff.

“So yes”

_Shut up Sam._

“Have you tried counselling?”

_Shut up, Samuel._

“Okay no counselling I get it”

_Fuck off_

“Dean I’m kidding”

_Im gonna show you what kidding means when I shave your fucking head while you sleep you absolut moron_

“Absolut is vodka”

_I meant absolute fuck off_

“Maybe if you laid off the vodka you and Cas wouldnt have so many relationship troubles”

_Maybe if you laid off being a nerd you would have someone to have relationship troubles with_

“So you’re admitting you have relationship troubles”

_I do not have relationship troubles_

“So you’re admitting there’s a relationship to have troubles with”

Dean wanted to fucking punch him.

_Eat my ass_

“We’re not the Lannisters we dont do incest gross dude”

_Not literally you dickhole_

“Of course not literally you have Cas for that”

_Suck a crusty toe_

“When you come back you can take off your shoes and see if Im in the mood”

_My toes aren’t crusty you’re crusty_

“Nice comeback”

_Listen I dont have a thing for Cas_

Shit. Shit. Unsend. Dean regretted it as soon as he sent it because in reply to the last message it seemed completely out of context, it was the earlier parts of the conversation he had in mind. Oh fucking hell.

“Sure”

_You probably do though_

“Jealous?”

_You’re not even his type_

“And you are?”

Well, yeah, actually, Dean was proud to say. Cas had been checking him out, that was obvious. There was physical attraction there … but that’s where it ended. And they couldn’t even act on that because it would ruin their friendship.

_Never said that but yeah I probably am_

“What makes you so sure?”

 _My charm and good looks_ , Dean replied, then double texted and added, _and the fact that you have a micro penis_

Because he knew Cas, apparently, knew bigger was better, by the jabs he’d made at Dean about tails and not knowing what giant dicks looked like. So jab Sam right in that area.

“You have the charm of a leftover taco and I doubt size matters to Cas”

_You just admitted you have a micro penis and yes it does_

“How do you know that then?” and “How do you even know if hes into dick in the first place?”

_We talk_

“About dick”

_What we talk about is none of your concern_

“You talk about dick”

_Yeah we talk about you a lot_

“Screw you”

Dean jumped when the oven timer went off.

_Yeah alright. Gonna eat pizza now. Go eat a dick. Love you xoxoxo_

“I’d love to xxxxx” followed by three heart emoticons.

Dean was feeling proud of himself for getting out of all of those corners he’d backed into and ending on a nice note of sarcasm. And now, it was time to make up with Cas. And perhaps tell him of his conversation with Sam … excluding the Dean having a thing for him part but very much including Sam having a thing for him and his brave admission about his teenie tiny micro penis. Dean was proud of himself for backing Sam into that one, too.

‘Pizza’s done. Pick your six.’

Dean placed the plate with all twelve mini-pizzas on the table next to Cas’s book, which Cas closed and looked up at Dean as he sat down.

‘Have you learned to respect the opinions of others yet?’

‘Nope.’

‘Then I’m not interested.’

Castiel went to open his book again and Dean grabbed his wrist.

‘Come on, Cas,’ he whined. ‘I’m just messing around. Like pals do.’

Ka _ching_. Dollar noise. In the bag. Because Dean playfully pressed his fist to Cas’s cheek in a kind of false punch thing like a nudge on the shoulder, and Cas’s stubble felt like something Dean wanted to run his hands or his lips or the insides of his thighs over not even caring if he got stubble burn.

Castiel rolled his eyes and got his hand free of the grip that Dean’s non-nudging hand had on it.

‘Fine,’ Castiel sighed. ‘I forgive you. I don’t even feel that strongly about it anyway. I just enjoy seeing you in your annoyance.’

‘So we’re cool?’

‘Yes, Dean. We’re cool.’

‘Great. Now come here.’

Dean opened his arms.

Possible huge mistake until Cas twisted in his seat with another eye roll.

Ka _chiiiiiiing_. Many dollar noises and many many bags.

‘That’s it, hug it out,’ Dean approved, patting Cas’s back before they pulled away.

The arms of their chairs had been in the way, but it had still counted and it was good to have a barrier to stop Dean from doing something weird, and it was good that the table had food on it to stop Dean from jumping on it and joyfully dancing because he’d just casually hugged Cas in the middle of the day for virtually no reason. He imagined his victory dance would look something like the one Chandler from Friends did when he found out he was the best sex Monica had ever had.

Note to self: show Cas Friends.

He’d have to find a boxset of one of the seasons or something. Maybe they could rent it; Dean didn’t want to be heading back to the bunker with a boxset of a season or two of a show he already had the complete seasons one to ten set of in his room, hidden away so Sam couldn’t get his claws on them without asking permission first. And he didn’t know if Cas would ever get the opportunity to play them again for a while f he gave them to him, so renting was definitely better than buying.

They could get under the blanket again. Have a marathon.

 _Bam_. Next movie night.

Movie … slash TV show night, then.

And next week they needed to have less drinks because frankly they got carried away with those and getting up to pee every five minutes was a) annoying b) kind of embarrassing in the presence of someone you’re in love with and c) wasting valuable almost-bed-sharing time.

Drinking from one same bottle would do, or two. He didn’t need to indirectly kiss Cas on more than that many bottles.

Damn it, he had to remind himself that referring to that as indirectly kissing Cas was really fucking lame and stupid and pathetic.

He had to distract himself.

‘So, I talked to Sam,’ Dean said conversationally. ‘Again.’

‘What did he say?’ Castiel asked.

‘Well we insulted each other a lot and then he admitted he has a thing for you and he has a micro penis.’

‘He has a what?’

‘Basically a really, really, tiny dick.’

‘Like yours?’

Dean closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying not to let his heart start racing and digest what Cas had said, and making it look like he was instead trying not to get angry.

‘No, Cas,’ Dean said evenly, ‘like _yours_.’

‘In that case I’m not sure you understand what “tiny” is.’

Dean glared at him.

‘But anyway,’ he continued. ‘Sam has a thing for you. And he accused us of talking about dick.’

‘… Dean we’re literally doing that right now. Or we were, before you mentioned the conversation with Sam again.’

‘Yeah, well, he doesn’t need to know that,’ Dean brushed off. ‘And he says you’d think size doesn’t matter.’

‘Well … I guess it doesn’t,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Although I can see why it’s a general opinion that it does. I will admit that even I’ve bought into the general consensus that bigger is better. So what did you say?’

Dean’s heart was definitely racing seeing Cas just talk so casually about not only dick size, but dick sizing _preference_ as he chewed away on a piece of pizza.

‘I said it matters,’ Dean said carefully, ‘not … not that I was assuming your thoughts on the matter. I was just trying to piss him off.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘Well, he asked how I knew you were into dick in the first place.’

‘That’d be because I’m gay.’

‘Yeah, but he doesn’t know what. So I just said “we talk” and then he got into the accusations.’

‘The accusations which were completely warranted,’ Castiel pointed out, then added, ‘I should really tell him that I’m gay. It’s something you’d tell your friend, isn’t it?’

‘I guess so,’ Dean nodded. ‘If you’re like … out. If you know what I mean.’

‘I don’t see why I wouldn’t be,’ Castiel shrugged, but he quickly backtracked and said, ‘but I can see why others might not be.’

Dean nodded, understanding, and understanding that Cas understood Dean’s own closetedness.

‘So you’re telling him,’ Dean stated, assuming.

‘I’ll call him later,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘I’ll tell him you told me about your conversation and that I’d like to make clarifications, and I’ll give him my deepest sympathies about the fact that both of you apparently have … I can’t remember the word you used, so I’ll just say … underdeveloped genitalia. How does that sound?’

‘I said “micro penis,”’ Dean told him. ‘It’s a thing. It doesn’t mean just small, like it’s an actual thing. They’re supposed to be like an inch or less or something.’

‘What?’ Castiel frowned. ‘How does that even work? How do you even find it? And I’m asking you directly, Dean, because you would know.’

Dean scoffed silently at him and gave him an annoyed, not-buying it look. Castiel smirked.

‘I will literally hit you across the face with my dick,’ Dean declared. ‘My _full sized_ dick.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Castiel replied sarcastically.

‘Neither can I.’

Oh, god. He wished he actually _could_ hit Cas with his dick. Or not like, hit, but … just … literally anything involving Cas and his dick and he was in.

‘So, am I invited to yours and Sam’s wedding?’ Dean asked, changing the subject completely.

‘Of course,’ Castiel frowned. ‘It would be highly illogical for you not to be there. It’s likely that Sam would choose you to be his best man, and if it were at all possible for you to be the best man to both grooms, I would choose you, too.’

‘Well, I’d have to be yours too,’ Dean replied reasonably. ‘Who else is going to lift you up so that you’re tall enough to kiss Sam?’

Castiel glared at him.

‘As if you could lift me,’ he scoffed.

‘Dude, I could _so_ lift you.’

‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

‘Alright, get up.’

‘What?’

‘Get up. Right now. Stand up.’

‘Dean –’

‘ _Up_.’

Rolling his eyes, Castiel got to his feet and Dean was momentarily stumped because he didn’t actually think Cas would do it. Dean was suddenly thanking every damn god he could think of, the old gods, the new gods, the lord of light and the many faced god, and literal God and all the Greek gods and dead wizard god and all the rest he couldn’t think of. He was glad of his sudden competitive outburst since it was what had lead up to him scooping his arm under the backs of Cas’s knees and grabbing him sort of awkwardly into a bridal style type of carrying.

He was standing here on the balcony literally holding Cas in his arms.

Holy fucking shit.

‘Put me down,’ Castiel commanded, after a moment, so Dean obliged. ‘I’m sorry. I underestimated you.’

‘Yeah, you really shouldn’t do that.’

‘I’ll stop. I promise.’

‘Good.’

‘One last thing,’ Castiel said.

‘Oh?’

And then Dean died.

Because Cas grabbed him by the waist, pulled him close put his hands on the backs of Dean’s thighs and pulled, Dean’s legs automatically coming up as Cas lifted them, Dean’s arms shooting out to wrap around Cas’s neck so he didn’t fall backwards.

Castiel walked until Dean’s back was pressed against the glass wall.

‘Now _you_ should learn not to underestimate _me_.’

It was all Dean could do not to whimper out loud.

‘Never,’ Dean told him. ‘I promise.’

Cas’s grip on him tightened.

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘Positive.’

 _Don’t get a boner_ , Dean begged himself. _Please don’t get a boner._

Castiel stepped back and waited a moment before he dropped Dean’s legs. Dean waited another moment before unlocking his arms from around Cas’s neck. They resumed their seats.

‘You should do that with a guy,’ Dean commented, surprised at his light, casual nature when he was fucking _dying_. He proved to Cas he could lift him. Not in a thousand years would be have thought that Cas was about to prove he could do the same and lift _him_.

‘I was under the impression that you _are_ a guy.’

‘I _am_ ,’ Dean clarified, ‘but I mean … like  a guy you’re gonna … you know, fuck. You should do that.’

‘Not if whoever it is looks as terrified as you did,’ Castiel teased him, raising his eyebrows and surveying Dean.

‘Do I need to keep constantly reminding you that you’re intimidating?’ Dean asked. ‘Or even … I guess you could call it … _dominant._ ’

‘You feel as though … I dominated you? Just now?’

‘Well, sorta, yeah.’

Castiel seemed to consider this for a moment, picked up the pizza he’d been eating before he’d been made stand up for that little show, took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

‘Good,’ he decided.

Dean swallowed too, but rather than pizza it was a ball of nerves and arousal and admiration as they fell silent, but only for about a minute.

‘So, what color tie should I wear to your wedding?’ Dean asked.

‘Green,’ Castiel told him. ‘It would match your eyes.’

‘Then you should wear blue,’ Dean suggested.

‘I will,’ Castiel promised. ‘And Sam should wear … what color are his eyes? They seem to be a different color every time I see him.’

‘Hazel,’ Dean explained. ‘They shift between brown and green and everything in between. Woah, dude, that rhymed.’

‘The idea of a hazel tie doesn’t sound appealing,’ Castiel frowned uncertainly, ‘despite the color looking good as an eye color. So the wedding is off.’

‘The wedding is off just because you can’t find a tie that matches his eyes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Dude, just make him wear a green one.’

‘You’re wearing green,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘You can’t wear the same tie, because you’d upstage him because of the sheer intensity of your eye color. And you’re not supposed to upstage the groom.’

‘Well, my eyes and I are sorry,’ Dean said with a false sigh.

‘It’s okay,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I doubt Sam and I would have worked anyway. Because we’d have to deal with _you_ bugging us all the time due to the fact that you’re alone, and I’m not sure Sam and I are ready to have children.’

It took Dean a moment.

‘Well, fuck you,’ Dean declared.

‘Once again I need to remind you that one reason why you can’t do that is because I’ve told you I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that stick,’ Castiel replied curtly, ‘and another reason is due to the whole mico penis issue.’

‘Still gonna hit you in the face with my dick.’

‘Still can’t wait.’

 _Still dying_ , Dean thought.

Thankfully, but also sort of unfortunately, the subject of dicks was dropped as they finished their food, and it wasn’t reprised when Dean took in their shared plate and came out with two instant Latés that were store bought and came in little sachets to be added to hot water and then drank. When Dean put the drinks down he noticed that Cas was on the phone, and it seemed to be to Sam.

‘Eh ya go mate,’ Dean announced in a false and horrifyingly bad British accent and higher, softer voice than his own, to disguise all traces of possibly sounding like himself. ‘Av a noice lonch break.’

‘Thank you … Robert,’ Castiel said after awkwardly trying to come up with a false name.

 _Robert?_ Dean mouthed.

 _Baratheon_ , Castiel mouthed back.

‘That? Oh, that’s my coworker. He’s from …’

 _London_ , Dean mouthed.

‘London,’ Castiel lied. ‘He brought me a drink.’

Castiel held up a finger and put Sam on speaker phone, it coming on just as Sam was saying the tail end of ‘that was nice of him.’

‘We have an arrangement,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘He brings me coffee and I bring him … uh, nachos,’ he said, saying the first food he could think of.

‘Sweet,’ Sam replied. ‘Anyway, listen, I just called to warn you about something.’

 _He called you?_ Dean mouthed. Cas nodded.

‘Is something wrong?’ Castiel asked with a frown.

‘No, it’s about Dean,’ Sam assured him. ‘I just want to let you know he’s being a dick. Don’t listen to anything he tells you, alright?’

‘Anything he tells you about … your thing for me and your micro penis? I’m sorry, by the way. You have my sympathies for that. You both do.’

‘Damn it, he got to you first!’ Sam groaned.

‘He called to ask if he was invited to our wedding,’ Castiel said, grinning. ‘Of course, I didn’t know what he was talking about until he explained, but … I had to decline and say he wasn’t invited, because there’s not going to be a wedding. It’s too small, Sam, I’m sorry.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Sam whined. ‘Come on, I thought size wouldn’t matter to you. I thought you were a bigger person than that.’

‘It wouldn’t have mattered … say, a week ago,’ Castiel reasoned, ‘but since I figured out that I’m gay it’s started to matter more.’

Dean gave a supportive thumbs up. Castiel flashed him a smile.

‘Wait, you’re gay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘ _Damn_ it. And I’m pan so we’re even compatible. Come on, size doesn’t matter Cas. You know it doesn’t.’

‘You make it sound as though Dean wasn’t kidding with what was obviously just a petty insult to try and demean something about you.’

Sam paused. Dean snorted and then clapped his hand over his mouth.

‘What was that?’ Sam asked curiously.

‘Robert read a funny text message,’ Castiel covered.

‘Oh, he’s still there?’

‘It’s his break too,’ Castiel confirmed. ‘We take our break together sometimes. He’s … he’s a good friend.’

‘Oh, that’s nice. And back on topic, believe me, Dean was lying when he said that thing about me. Just so you know. Everything is proportioned … well.’

 _Well_. Dean grimaced at Cas, and now it was Cas’s turn not to laugh at Dean’s face.

‘Good to know,’ Castiel replied. ‘So what’s “pan?”’ he asked, pretending he didn’t fully know because it’s not like the pre-this-case Cas would know to Google this kind of thing. ‘Is that the one … where you’re attracted to two genders … or all of them?’

‘All of them,’ Sam explained. ‘Two is bi. Though sometimes I get confused when I think about pansexual and _omni_ sexual. They’re pretty interchangeable at times … but it doesn’t matter. At the end of the day I’m down for whatever.’

‘Good to know,’ Castiel repeated. ‘That was what God initially intended, after all.’

‘So where did you hear about that kind of thing?’ Sam asked eagerly.

Dean pointed at himself and mouthed the false name Cas had used for him.

‘Robert,’ Castiel lied smoothly. ‘He’s … got a book on it.’

‘Hey, me too,’ said Sam, and it sounded like he was grinning. ‘I just lent it to Kevin, actually. He … he wants something to read besides the tablet.’

Dean felt a twinge of guilt at the whole lie about the tablet business. Ouch.

‘It’s good that he’s taking breaks,’ Castiel approved, then back on track, ‘it was Robert’s book that helped me figure out I’m gay, actually. And Robert himself, actually … he’s … attractive.’

Castiel spoke delicately, watching Dean’s raised eyebrows and his slight smirk.

‘Thanks mate,’ replied “Robert” in the background. ‘Oim well fit, oi am.’

 Castiel had to press his hand over his mouth and nose to stop from laughing.

‘Oh, come on, don’t tell me you’re moving on from me already,’ Sam complained.

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel sighed. ‘But you’re too tall.’

‘I’ll cut my legs off.’

‘Then you would be too short.’

‘How tall is Robert?’

‘There’s only an inch or two or difference,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘If you cut of Dean’s penis and held it between Robert’s and mine’s heights … that’d be it.’

Dean flipped him off. Castiel smiled, the picture of innocence.

‘Damn it,’ Sam muttered. ‘I like that you’re making fun of Dean, though.’

‘Well, he made fun of me earlier,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘He said he’d have to lift me at our wedding so I could kiss you. Your brother is a mean person, Sam, did you know that?’

‘I’m aware,’ Sam said bitterly. ‘But it’s all for show. Underneath he’s just a big old puppy. Throw him a treat and he’ll let you scratch him behind the ears for a while and he won’t bother you.’

‘I’ll take that advice for when I next see him,’ Castiel smiled. ‘Or even when I next talk to him.’

‘Next time you talk to him, could you try and get him to tell you where the Friends DVDs are?’ Sam asked. ‘I’ve been looking in his room for two days. I want to watch them while I read up on angel lore, but all I’ve found is a Wicked CD hidden in a rag with paint and coal dust on it.’

Dean’s face suddenly looked horrified. Castiel frowned.

 _Inside bed covers_ Dean began to mouth frantically, over and over, the thought of Sam finding any more of his hidden objects even more horrifying than Sam watching his DVDs and maybe forgetting to return one.

‘He told me about that, actually,’ Castiel said, once he’d figured out when Dean was mouthing. ‘He was boasting about his ability to hide things from you and mentioned he’d hidden some DVDs, “Friends DVDs” he said specifically although I’m not sure what that is, inside his bed covers.’

‘Like the cover on the blanket?’ Sam asked.

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed as Dean nodded. ‘Inside that.’

‘Oh, damn it,’ Sam muttered. ‘I checked the pillow case but never thought to check there. No wonder it felt heavier than normal. Thanks, Cas.’

‘No problem,’ Castiel grinned, satisfied.

‘Not noice to snitch onya mates, mate,’ “Robert” said disapprovingly.

‘Shut up,’ Castiel instructed.

‘That Robert guy and you seem pretty close,’ Sam commented, sounding as though he did so with a frown.

‘We are,’ Castiel said truthfully, about him and Dean, slipping in a lie with, ‘he asked me out once, but I declined.’

‘Why did you decline?’

‘Because he may be attractive, but I accidentally saw him changing his socks in the store room once. And he has eleven toes.’

‘Oh god, what?’

‘Eleven toes,’ Castiel repeated, Dean glaring at him now. ‘It’s not even six and five. It’s seven and four. It’s disgusting.’

Dean was now repeatedly flipping Cas off with both hands, waving them around in Cas’s face.

‘That sounds … I can’t even imagine it.’

‘You don’t want to.’

‘I can see why you said no.’

‘Yes. That, and his tattoo of that thing from The Exorcist. It covers his whole chest, going over all three of his nipples.’

‘Fok off, mate,’ “Robert” muttered.

‘All _three_?’

‘When I said he was attractive, I meant facially,’ Castiel said in distaste. ‘And … his arms. And his hands. And his legs.’

‘Foine, jost tell im we slept togeva woy dontcha,’ “Robert” said with a dramatic sigh, quickly turning back into Dean and winking at Cas who pressed his hand over his mouth and nose again more in shock instead of to stifle laughter.

‘You _what_?’

‘E wuz un top,’ “Robert” added.

‘Cas?’

‘I’m leaving,’ Castiel decided, grabbing the drink he’d been sipping throughout the conversation and heading inside to the kitchen table, where he settled himself down and glanced outside at Dean who was ginning in at him mischievously.

‘Cas, is he serious?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel decided to lie. ‘But it doesn’t matter. It was one night … and we were drunk,’ he added as an excuse.

‘Well, look at you!’ Sam approved, sounding happy for him indeed. ‘Humanity suits you.’

‘I guess,’ Castiel shrugged, not about to get into the fact that he would actually rather have his grace back, but if he didn’t get it he wasn’t about to be disappointed.

‘Does Dean know?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel decided, glancing out at Dean who was still watching him, and upon seeing Cas was watching back, he winked.

‘Was he jealous?’

Castiel frowned at the question. Why would Dean be jealous?

‘No,’ Castiel answered.

‘Huh,’ Sam muttered. ‘Okay then … hey, he told me you’ve been reading A Game of Thrones …’

And then the subject fell away into safer territory, and the phone call spanned another twenty minutes of book discussion, during which Dean came in, silent, and joined him, bringing in Cas’s book too because outside it had started to lightly drizzle.

‘It was good talking to you,’ said Sam, as the call came to a close. ‘We should do it more often. Let me know what you think of that second book.’

‘I’ll keep you updated,’ Castiel promised. ‘I’ll let you get back to your research now.’

‘And I’ll let you take the rest of your break in peace.’

‘Thank you,’ Castiel smiled, to himself in his enjoyment of the conversation. ‘Bye, Sam.’

‘Bye,’ Sam replied. ‘Talk soon, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Castiel nodded.

And then the call ended.

And the end of the call was followed by a prompt, ‘you’re an asshole.’

‘For making you look good?’ Dean asked, grinning and as mischievous as ever. ‘Come on. Admit it, you loved the character I made up for you.’

‘Why was he British?’

‘So there wouldn’t be anything Sam recognized.’

‘That was the worst accent I’ve ever heard anyone do. In all of history. And remember, I was there to see all of history.’

‘Wow, mean,’ Dean sulked. ‘And after everything I did for you … I didn’t even object to the three nipples thing.’

‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘And you think my face is attractive,’ Dean stared proudly. ‘And my arms. And my hands. And my legs.’

Dean placed his hand on his face, right where Cas could see it and drummed his fingertips delicately over his own cheekbone.

Castiel rolled his eyes and got to his feet, grabbing his and Dean’s empty mugs and taking them over to the sink, where the plate from lunch was. Dean followed him close behind, still grinning and smug. He had removed his jacket.

‘Hey, it’s not your fault,’ Dean reasoned, leaning against the counter beside the sink and drumming his fingers near Cas, flexing his hand. ‘I’m just hot. Temperature wise, too, maybe I’ll just …’

 _What the fuck are you doing?_ Dean hissed at himself.

Playfully teasing, the rational part of himself concluded. He wasn’t trying to make any moves on Cas, he was just trying to mess with him a little. Clearly Cas was fine with the messing with him thing, he’d gotten into it in other areas before.

He saw Cas look at him after he’d taken off his flannel, leaving him in just his t-shirt. Castiel seemed to be watching him carefully, but his face, not the arms Dean had exposed.

And then Cas fucking flicked water on him.

‘Oops,’ Castiel replied innocently. ‘My bad. My hand slipped. Oh _no_.’

The “oh no” accompanied a second, larger splash.

‘You …’

Dean couldn’t even think of a word to call him. Instead, he pulled off his shirt and threw it at Cas’s face.

So Cas splashed water on his bare chest instead.

‘Oh my god,’ Dean stated.

‘No, that’s my father.’

Before he knew what he was doing, Dean had grabbed one of the clean mugs, filled it with water from the running tap and poured it on Cas, the stream cascading down over his shirt, pants and the floor.

‘ _Oops_ ,’ Dean mimicked. ‘ _My_ bad. _My_ hand slipped.’

‘You’re a fucking asshole.’

Castiel began to unbutton his shirt, turning as he did so for the bedroom, Dean following him with his own wet t-shirt and the flannel he had removed, which he planned to put back on over a dry shirt, and he wasn’t going to wait for Cas to go first because he didn’t care, and he didn’t think it was weird at all that he and Cas were changing their shirts together, and the fact that Cas shoved down his wet jeans in annoyance and holy fucking shit those fucking thighs and shit fuck shit fck shfvoj death

It was very, very hard to remain calm while picking up the wet flannel Cas had dumped on the ground, and again while putting it in the laundry basket they kept in the closet which was casually being filled with their build up of laundry through the week.

His face was veeeeeery close to Cas’s thighs as he picked up Cas’s jeans while Cas put on a new pair. Oh god. Oh _god_. Oh dear fucking fucking fuckity fuck fuck.

It was tempting to stay and stare but now Dean was redressed, after putting his flannel on over his dry shirt incredibly slowly just for an excuse to watch Cas buttoning his jeans and watch him pick out a new flannel to put on, watch his shoulder muscles work as he pushed clothes aside to find something he was in the mood to wear …

Dean walked stiffly to the couch as soon as he was out, and Cas wasn’t far behind him once he was redressed, and Dean was dying, but it was good and welcomed and he craved it if it was caused by what he’d just seen.

He’d been so preoccupied with Cas’s damn thighs he hadn’t even thought to try and catch a glance at his ass, which he assumed would be prominent when seeing him in just his underwear, because his underwear may not have been tight like Dean’s, but the kind of boxers he wore weren’t the super-baggy kind, they were the kind that were better fitting, the fabric hugging against those fucking thighs but with room to breathe and move without rolling up like boxer briefs would on him.

And they were the short kind. They didn’t even go down to his mid-thigh.

The well-fitting, not baggy, not long, but still not too tight kind, and Dean had surpassed the opportunity to look at Cas’s ass and try to check out and see if he could see any indication of Cas’s dick.

Dean was a fucking _moron_.

They sat next to each other on the sofa in an annoyed huff, silent for a minute or two. Dean was the first to break.

‘I’m sorry I exploited the fact that you find me attractive.’

‘I’m sorry I splashed water on you.’

‘I’m sorry I _poured_ water on you.’

‘That’s okay,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I can consider it a second shower for the day and pretend it was refreshing.’

‘Well I’m glad something good came out of it,’ Dean replied, patting Cas’s shoulder as he made to stand up. ‘I’m going to mop the floor where it got wet.’

‘I’m going to play Candy Crush.’

‘After you’re done with that I think I might teach you a card game you can play by yourself if you’re up for it,’ Dean suggested, mop in hand. ‘To pass time for however long you’re alone in a motel for when this is over. When you’re not working and doing what you do to help out and whatever.’

‘You can play cards alone?’ Castiel inquired, looking up from his phone screen.

‘Oh yeah,’ Dean nodded informatively. ‘I was surprised too. I was just a kid when dad taught me and a few years later I taught Sam. We used to get two decks of cards and each try to play and see who could finish their game first. It was fun. You and me could even do it if we buy another deck.’

‘That sounds fun.’

‘That being said … the whole thing of whoever wins first doesn’t actually happen that often,’ Dean remembered as he wrung out the now damp mop over the sink, the water pattering down into loudly with each large drop. ‘It’s more like the loser is the one who runs out of moves to make first.’

‘So who usually loses?’

‘Well it’s a pretty fair game,’ Dean mused, ‘so … it’s pretty even these days, the rare times we get to play. Back then I was better but I usually ended up losing because I kept pointing out possible moves Sam could make and making all the wrong moves myself. Don’t think I’ll be so helpful with you, though.’

‘I don’t need your help,’ Castiel said boldly, putting down the phone he was neglecting to pay attention to anyway. ‘Get the cards. Teach me the game. And then you can go buy another deck and we’ll see how fast of a learner I am.’

‘Oh I can, can I?’ Dean said with raised eyebrows, although he was doing what Cas had instructed so far.

‘You’re the one who knows where to buy them,’ Castiel shrugged.

Alright, I guess your logic makes sense,’ Dean reasoned. ‘Pull out the table. I’ll get us something to drink.’

Dean tossed the deck, secure in its box, onto the coffee table as Cas pulled it forward and then Dean turned and made his way back to the fridge and pulled out a half full bottle of Sprite and no glasses. Because who needs glasses?

Well people who have trouble seeing for starters.

Heh … why was Dean always so damn funny inside his own head?

Cas would probably laugh at that.

Sam would hate it.

Cas would probably hate it if he was in one of those moods where he did nothing but insult Dean.

So … since Cas only laughed at his jokes when he was in a good, gentle kind of mood, did that mean he only laughed to make Dean happy, or …?

 _Nah_. Dean was just hilarious. Cas just neglected to see that when he was pissed.

Maybe he’d try it out on Cas some time if it came up again.

‘So,’ Dean began, ‘I taught you to shuffle. Now shuffle. Then I’ll show you the setup of Solitaire.’

Cas was quick to pick up the game, but the cards were awkward and didn’t allow him a win the first few times, but soon he completed a full game and Dean deemed him ready, so as Cas set up another game to practice alone, Dean went out in search of another deck of cards and returned successful, to find Cas had been successful too, and then they set up side by side and began to kill another hour and a half playing against each other in a game built for one, but more fun with two.

They moved away from that game once they tired of it and Dean decided to teach Cas a few others he hadn’t taught him the first time they’d played with cards. They were a little more complex, but after an explaining of the rules to the best of Dean’s ability and some head on experience in playing, Cas picked them up. Cas greatly enjoyed one of the simpler games, Spit, and beat Dean in it most of the time with his quick movements, and it also involved lots of accidental hand brushes as they rushed to put a card down on the same spot, and it involved one little scrap where they tried to push and shove each others’ hands away while still holding their card and trying to get it into place. In the end they accidentally knocked over the growing card pile and had to start over.

The games of Spit could get pretty long, and eventually they went on to play Free Cell, another solo game, but they timed each other to see who could win in the shortest amount of time. Dean ran out of moves once then won in just over nine minutes, Cas running out of moves several times until he eventually got pissed off at that game and let Dean win, and Dean only gloated a _little_ after complaining a _lot_ when he lost at Spit.

Their card games, oddly addictive causing time to pass by in bounds without them noticing, took them into late afternoon, and Dean decided it was time he get cooking, enlisting Cas as his assistant although he could have easily done everything himself.

He had Cas help him get out the breaded chicken and preheat the oven, and enlisted his help in taking out all of the rest of the fillings for the wraps he was going to make. He was going to add a side of oven cooked fries, so it was just one wrap each, so he demonstrated what he was doing with the spreading the sauce and the linear placement of the fillings that would spread out when wrapped, and Castiel copied him, choosing his own assortment of cheeses and sliced meats to accompany the chicken, and then they left the open wraps to sit and await the main filling that would be put into them, which was in the oven along with the fries.

There were five minutes left on the first timer so Dean lingered by the oven waiting while Cas went to sit on the couch and get out Candy Crush like he’d planned before he and Dean had taken the detour of several hours falling down into a spiral of card games. Dean joined Cas when he’d flipped the oven stuff for the final ten minutes after the timer went off the first time, and watched Cas play, and even helped him out at times, allowing Cas to do the same with him when Cas’s lives were gone, and by then the food was done.

A minute in the microwave to melt the cheeses and warm the other fillings, and the wraps were done. Seasoning and some ketchup on the side, and the fries were done too, and they sat at the table across from each other with their food and they had apple juice to accompany just because it was there and it was good and they couldn’t live just coffee, hot chocolate and various sodas.

Cas really, really, really, really liked the melted mozzarella cheese. It was so … good.

And the chicken was so … good.

And the sauce was so … _good_.

 _Everything_ was good. He was going to miss taste when he was no longer human. _If_ he got to a point where he was no longer human.

But there were things he wouldn’t miss, like tiredness, limitation and the stupid fucking _hiccups_ he had after eating and drinking to fast, and no matter how many times he held his stupid breath they wouldn’t go away until he eventually managed to distract himself and lose himself in dishes and conversation with Dean, and only then did they vanish although he couldn’t pinpoint at what point they had.

‘So what time should we go tonight?’ Dean was asking when Cas realized the hiccups had vanished.

He was talking about the flyer they’d gotten earlier in the week, and the invitation extended by Indie Ass the drag queen to attend the show she did with the one they hadn’t met called India Soul.

‘What time does it say it starts?’ Castiel asked, drying a plate.

‘There’s eight until ten, and then there’s another kind of show from eleven until one,’ Dean recalled.

Not that he’d looked at the flyer a dozen times.

‘Then … we can arrive a little before eight,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘I suppose that’d give us time to get drinks and seats,’ Dean mused, nodding in agreement. ‘Maybe a snack. So we’re just staying for one show, right? Or both?’

‘I don’t mind,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s not like we have anywhere to go until tomorrow night. Everything else we have lined up for tomorrow is within an open time frame and it’s indoors.’

‘I guess we’ll see when we get there,’ Dean decided. ‘It’s not like I’m not used to the regular late night.’

‘If I recall correctly, when working a case or something of the sort, you usually only sleep for four hours,’ Castiel said thoughtfully.

‘True,’ Dean nodded. ‘It’s not on purpose or anything. It’ like … training. When I know there’s something huge happening I can barely sleep for more than three or four. And since I can survive on that, even when I’m in a place or situation I can sleep for more, I can still survive on any amount of sleep so long as every few months I get knocked out for twenty four hours at a time or something.’

‘Is that so?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows at Dean’s strange logic as they went for the sofa.

‘Yup,’ Dean said proudly. ‘I’m your every day, average, grade-A weirdo.’

‘I hope you realize that that’s unhealthy.’

‘Dude, I’ve literally died multiple times. Is _that_ healthy?’

‘Well … it’s not _un_ healthy. I mean … at least you’re unconscious.’

‘So death counts as sleep?’

‘I guess, in a manner of speaking.’

‘Well then I’m right on track because I was dead for forty years. That’s plenty of sleeping time.’

‘You didn’t look so sleepy when we met in hell,’ Castiel muttered to himself.

‘Okay, maybe my conscious self wasn’t sleeping,’ Dean countered, ‘but my body was. It was literally dead. Probably starting to decay before you fixed it up and slapped your hand print on there – what the hell happened to that hand print, by the way?’

‘When I healed you again the day we got Lucifer back in the cage, it healed along with everything else,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘Huh,’ Dean thought. ‘I’ve always wondered. But anyway … you can’t criticize my sleeping pattern because my body was resting for … okay, maybe not forty years then, but like four months.’

‘The conscious mind needs rest, too. And it seemed to be busy for those forty years compressed into the space of four months.’

‘My conscious mind is fine,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’ve been getting normal sleep since working on this case. It’s not a stressful case … so far. The only late nights have come though easy building searches and from hanging out with you. So if you’re worried about me not getting rest, it’s your fault.’

A risky thing to say to Cas, but in such a lighthearted and joking way, he was almost certain Cas wouldn’t take it the wrong way.

‘ _You’re_ the one who suggest those movie nights that caused us to be up late,’ Castiel reminded him, ‘so it’s your own fault.’

‘Hey, I’m not blaming anyone,’ Dean defended himself, raising his hands innocently. ‘I’m just … pointing out a fact. And another fact is I only suggested that stuff for you, so … the blame’s back on you.’

‘No, it’s on you,’ Castiel insisted. ‘Because right now I’m going to suggest for your own wellbeing, since these few days or weeks or however long we’re here may be the only time you get to seep through full nights, that we don’t stay for the late show tonight. And it’s going to be your fault that my thoughts for your wellbeing are ignored because I know you’re going to overrule my suggestion because I know you want to go to the second show. You’re not as good at hiding your desires as you think you are, Dean.’

‘Oh yes I am,’ Dean said proudly, sitting up a little straighter which was ironic because his desires were inherently bisexual, because the main desire he was good at hiding was the one where he was in love with Cas, a man, who he was attracted to, while also being attracted to women, aka chief bisexuality.

And his current desire to stay at that drag show until the end of the second one was a pretty bisexual one too. Because damn, a man dressed as a woman, that was a bisexual’s dream.

Bisexual. Bisexual. Bi. Bisexual.

The word was so fucking easy to say in his head now, damn. And out loud, to Cas.

But to anyone else, or even to think it around anyone else, and it would be like trying to say hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. The word was easier to say in his head than it was so say out loud.

‘Hip-hop-tomon-stroses-quipo-dalia-phobia,’ Dean attempted to say, having memorized the spelling but getting a few minor details wrong. “Hip-hop” and “dalia” being those.

‘What?’ Castiel asked, frowning at him.

Dean placed his hand over his mouth and blinked in surprise a couple of times.

‘Did I say that out _loud_?’

‘… Yes? Did you not mean to?’

‘No. I was saying it in my head.’

‘Why on Earth were you saying hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia in your head?’

‘Say that again.’

‘Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.’

‘Hippop-to-monstroses-quipo-dalia-phobia.’

‘Quip _e_ -dali _o_. We’re not afraid of Dalia, Dean.’

Dean laughed harshly against his will and had to put his hand over his mouth again.

‘Quip _e_ -dali _o_ ,’ he said carefully. ‘Quipedalio. Quipedaliophobia. Hippop … tomonstroses … quipo … no, quipedaliophobia. Hippoptomonstroses-quipedaliophobia. Hipppoptomonstrosesquipedaliophobia! I did it! YES!’

Bam. Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia. Now he could walk right up to Sam and say that in his face.

Much easier than saying “I’m bisexual” in his face.

He had acquired an utterly useless skill just to prove a point to himself.

He did that a lot.

‘Well done, Dean,’ Castiel approved. ‘So … _why_ did you do it? We were talking about you not being good at hiding your desires.’

‘Sorry, got distracted,’ Dean said, shaking his head to clear it. ‘But I _am_ good at hiding my desires. I have desires you don’t know about. I have desires you’ll _never_ know about.’

Like, ever.

‘Oh, I’m sure,’ Castiel replied as if he didn’t really believe him.

‘It’s true.’

‘Okay, Dean.’

‘And we’re staying for the later show.’

‘Okay.’

‘So bring a pillow if you think you’ll be tired, but I won’t be.’

‘Whatever you say.’

‘So, some music and a rematch of our last game of Spit?’

‘Sure,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s not like you’re going to win.’

‘I’ll win,’ Dean muttered under his breath as he went to put the music on. ‘Nirvana okay?’

‘Whatever that is,’ Castiel said with a laugh to himself, ‘of course.’

And so the rematch began.

And so Cas won.

And so Dean attempted to shove one of the cards up Cas’s nose.

And so Cas grabbed Dean’s wrist and pushed it away.

And so Dean glared, and a rematch of the rematch ensued.

And Cas. Fucking. Won. Again.

‘I hate this game,’ Dean declared. ‘Let’s play Rummy. You suck at Rummy.’

‘I’m improving,’ Castiel frowned at him.

‘Improving, but sucking.’

‘Well then … let’s see.’

Dean won in three rounds with 109 points … to one point. His laughter caused Cas to glare so hard it was surprising his eyes weren’t bleeding.

And then Dean’s win was at eight rounds, 100 points to fifteen … so Cas _was_ improving.

Sort of.

And then he improved a hell of a lot because he won with 12 against 155 in nine rounds.

‘That’s not fair,’ Dean complained. ‘I shouldn’t have taught you anything because now you’re just going to get better than me at _everything_.’

‘I learned from the best,’ Castiel shrugged.

Dean didn’t seem so annoyed after that, and his soft smile at Cas only fuelled another few games which were more evenly matched than the last.

‘I feel like we should be playing for something,’ said Dean, after his next win. ‘Make it interesting. Give us some drive, a reason to want to win.’

‘What about … tasks?’ Castiel asked.

‘Tasks?’

‘The loser of the next game has to do the least pleasant of the tasks we’ll be doing tomorrow. And we can continue from there.’

‘Brilliant,’ Dean grinned, so they made a list and set to playing.

The results were:

Toilet cleaning – Cas (104-25 Rummy)

Shower/sinks cleaning – Cas (334-45 Gin Rummy)

Bathroom floors – Dean (lost Go Fish)

Balcony cleaning – Dean (lost Spit)

Main floor – Cas (3:01-2:31 Pyramid Solitaire)

Bedroom vacuum – Cas (104-38 Rummy)

Clean mantle – Dean (258-84 Gin Rummy)

Oven – Cas (lost Go Fish)

Microwave – Cas (lost Spit)

Counter tops – Cas – (lost War)

Table/coffee table – Dean (128-16 Rummy)

Bedsheets laundry – Dean (349-40 Gin Rummy)

General laundry – Cas (lost Go Fish)

Has to carry the basket while shopping – Dean (lost Spit)

They agreed to alternate tasks every week that they were there, and of course agreed to help each other out, especially when it came to laundering the bed sheets, specifically getting the covers back on.

By the time they finished their games, it was seven thirty, so they decided to set off on foot and look for the bar on the flyer which they’d driven by a few times, so they knew its general location and that it was within walking distance.

They had jackets and they had their phones and their keys and money; on the way they stopped at a store and bought a candy bar each just as something to buy, while paying from a twenty per bar and asking for the change all in singles.

‘For tips,’ Dean explained as they left, opening his candy bar once he’d tucked all the money away securely. ‘Like if there’s lip syncing and you think they’re doing a good job and you’re enjoying yourself, hold up a dollar and they’ll come get it. Maybe sit on you if you’re lucky.’

‘You seem to know a lot about this,’ Castiel said suspiciously.

Dean, a little more confident than usual with his budding excitement and his continuous high from a fun evening replied, ‘it’s not my first time at the rodeo.’

‘At this point, that doesn’t surprise me,’ Castiel replied.

‘Keep your eye out for a hat or a jar or something for tips, too,’ Dean went on. ‘During the comedy it says they’re doing they won’t exactly be coming out into the audience collecting tips. So you put it in whatever they’ve laid out of they’ve laid something out. I remember once the two queens performing put out a violin case. Neither one of them played violin in the act.’

‘A receptacle is a receptacle,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘True,’ Dean agreed, throwing his arm casually around Cas’s shoulder as they crossed the road together.

They walked in near silence, the city lit around them, the sky dark, the stars hidden by the city lights, which were glorious in their own way. They could see stars any old night anywhere else, or even from their balcony where the lighting as less vast, but city lights were rare, only seen when Sam and Dean were working a case in a city, which was rare in itself, or only back when Cas was an angel and happened to pass through one, which again wasn’t often. Cities had never called to him; it had been nature, mundane places, places with wild animals, and there was that time when he went from Biggersons to Biggersons to avoid angels so he supposed that Biggersons had once called to him too. Or at least the escape had. Oh, and the coffee.

Even as an angel, where things tasted like … nothing, or disgusting, he had managed to acquire the taste of coffee, because it was made from something completely natural and simple; water and a bean that wasn’t altered, just ground. Whereas other things … milk was pasteurized with chemicals added, soda was chemically created and most foods that he enjoyed now were altered in some way too. Alterations let the molecules that made them break free, and so that’s what he tasted as far as he could recall, the few times he’d been offered food, like during the few times he and Sam or Dean or Sam and Dean had been alone together, like if he stayed with them on a motel room on a case, or when he went on a journey and they insisted he travel the human way.

Castiel would never forget the taste of the salted chip he’d had when Sam offered it. It had tasted of molecules and chemicals and unpleasantness. The granola fruit bar had been slightly better as it contained some natural fruit, but it had still been processed beyond belief into gag-worthy crunchy grossness. He hadn’t even let himself try the smoothie when Sam offered him some to see how that tasted, because although that too contained fruit, it likely contained a medley of other things less than natural.

But of all the things that felt natural in humanity … food wasn’t actually one of them. Nor was sleep, nor was any other need. What actually felt natural was Dean’s arm around his shoulders as they neared the bar, for once going for a normal reason, not to steal an arrow from a cupid or anything else of that sort.

Maybe if they were lucky a cupid would show up and make two guys fall in love again like the last time. They wouldn’t have much work ahead of them; one of the guys was already there. But Cas’s love was a real, natural love, not caused by some cupid, he was sure of it. It had happened on its own, where if Dean were to ever love him it would _have_ to be manufactured.

But there was no need to manufacture it, because cupids only targeted couples who were destined to be together.

‘What do you want to drink?’ Dean asked as they entered the bar, with a decently large stage and a wide array of tables to be seated at.

‘I’ll have whatever you’re having,’ Castiel replied.

Because that seemed natural, too.

The two of them got their drinks and made their way towards a table, one of the ones nearer the front, thankfully empty as they sat down at it.

‘Ready to experience the show of a life time?’ Dean asked.

‘Sure, I guess,’ Castiel smiled at him, seeing that Dean was more excited than he was allowing himself to show.

‘And put _on_ the show of a life time,’ Dean pointed out, too. ‘Because we’re a couple, starting now.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel agreed. ‘We are.’

Dean reached out a hand across the table, and Castiel slipped his into it, holding his drink with the other one.

It was an odd observation, but Castiel couldn’t help but realize that they’d had their arms around each other walking through the streets and coming in here.

And as they’d walked towards the bar to order their drinks, their arms had dropped and their hands had joined, coming apart as they went for the table.

And _then_ they’d sat down and started to pretending to be a couple, not before that, because there was no need. Their building had been empty as they’d walked through it with their hands joined, and the streets too busy for anyone to really pay attention to them as they walked by.

They hadn’t needed to walk around joined as they had, but they’d done it anyway.

Of course it was just in case, just out of habit, it seemed natural after their evening of hand brushes and knee bumps and jabbing at each other frustrated after losing a round or a game.

But it was an odd habit to have formed, for two people who were only friends and nothing more.

Odd … and more than welcome.

As Castiel sipped the beer he’d gotten, the frothy, foamy head tickling his upper lip, he glanced across from him at Dean who was looking around at the other people in the bar. And then he looked down at their hands joined on the table top, noting that no one else in the bar, couple or not, seemed to be doing the same thing.

 _Interesting_. But … perhaps no one else was doing it because Dean and Cas were just trying _too_ hard.

Either way, it would be fun to find out what was on the cards and what kind of game that was the night had in store for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brother and I played a lot of card games for this chapter. Listened to a lot of music. Drank a lot of Sprite. 
> 
> We weren't listening to Nirvana though. We were listening to his husband's Spotify radio daily mix which included a lot of Britney, Rupaul, Shakira, Cher, Enrique Iglesias, Ricky Martin, The Pointer Sisters and Adam Lambert. And the occasional One Direction song and one or two Ariana Grande. 
> 
> If I never see my brother holding a deck of cards again, I'll be happy. And if I never listen to my brother in law's Spotify again, I'll also be happy. It's one hell of a scary place.


	19. The Elevator Ritual

What was on the cards was a night of surprise and hilarity.

The show opened with a double lip sync performance and the singles they’d gotten were well used as both queens strutted their way through the crowd, Indie in what seemed to be her signature purple hair, and India in something messy and blonde, both of them wearing extremely tight sequin leotards, Indie’s dark blue and India’s black, and once that performance was over the curtain closed and they went behind it, and when it opened again the stage was free of the money that had been thrown on it and on it there were to mics in stands, and the queens strutted back out for their comedy.

Indie was just as upbeat and friendly as she’d seemed to be off stage, her hair dark and her eyeliner bright and eccentric, her insults comedic and sharp, her wit quick and forever boiling beneath the surface. India was more relaxed, equally as comedic and cutting, and she spoke with a thick Russian accent and introduced herself as ‘India Sokoloff, but I think Sokoloff sounds too much like suck-all-off, so I let my friends call me India Soul. I consider anyone to be my friend once they’ve seen my vagina and you can all see the outline right now so that means we’re friends. And if you’ve seen my asshole it means we’re dating and there’s nothing you can do about it.’

The accent made _India Soul_ sound even more like “in the asshole” than it would have sounded in a regular old American accent like Indie Ass’s.

They insulted approximately half the audience for the next hour, ranging from outfits to hair styles to what they were drinking, and even to the huge grins of some of the more eager people who were insulted. One of the insults that stuck hardest with Dean and Cas making sure hilarity ensued between them was when India Soul walked up to someone and said ‘your face looks like it was carved by an angel,’ followed by a long pause and then: ‘Lucifer. Because you’re ugly.’

‘What are you laughing at?’ Indie talked over, glancing at Dean whom she clearly recognized. ‘Your face may be fine but I’ve seen you standing and your legs remind me of a pair of pliers. I wonder, when you open and close them, could your asshole pull out a bolt or at this stage is it too loose? And you next to him, there was more salt in that bag the other night than there is in my mood every time I remember Alyssa was eliminated before Coco on Rupaul’s Drag Race season five. The bag was this big, people, _this big_.’ She made an extreme gesture, far bigger than the bag had actually been. ‘Must be to pave the driveway of this one’s ass so everyone who visits doesn’t slip on the snows of winter falling in there.’

Dean didn’t care that he was being insulted by someone he’d talked to all of one time, who was still a perfect stranger and knew nothing about him. He didn’t care that his actual literal asshole was being talked about and insulted in front of an audience. Because this tall and glorious creature in front of him who was prettier than any biological woman he’d ever seen was dragging his ass through the dirt and the snow and he honestly wanted to thank her.

And then the show moved on, because India started snapping at someone who was on their phone and not paying attention and Indie went over to back her up.

After the hour of comedy, there was a five minute break, and the show opened again with another lip sync performance but this time it was a comedy one, ten minutes long and included a lot of dialogue lip syncing and interrupting each other and told a story, and at the end of it they spent another ten minutes telling the real story behind what the lip sync was based on which included aliens, a trip to Las Vegas and the CIA, so the “real” story wasn’t so real in the end.

The last parts of the performance were spent arguing with members of the audience, and then there was a break of an hour where Dean and Cas got some food and discussed the performance before the next show started again.

As they were looking over the menu to see what kind of snacks they served and Dean was heavily leaning towards nachos, they had some unexpected but not unwelcome visitors.

‘I told you they all make their way here,’ said a familiar voice, and Dean and Cas looked up to find that Dalia had approached and was speaking to Harri, who was nodding along. ‘One of them always gets to the newbies sooner or later.’

‘Sooner rather than later in this case,’ Harri nodded approvingly, her eyes twinkling as she eyed up the two now sitting next to each other rather than across from each other like they’d initially started out.

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted the two of them, an automatic welcoming grin spreading over his face.

‘Seat?’ Castiel offered, gesturing two extra chairs at the table, because there had been no tables just for two when they’d arrived so they’d taken one for four.

‘Excellent,’ Harri chirped, sitting down with Dalia next to her. ‘So, you two have discovered out local talent, then.’

‘Seems like it,’ Dean nodded in agreement. ‘And tomorrow we’ve got some more talent to check out.’

‘Piper and Dani?’ Dalia asked.

‘The very same,’ Dean agreed.

‘You should check out a show by Fallen Angels,’ Harri suggested. ‘They usually play in LA, but every other month they do a show a week around here. This coming month just happens to be one of those months.’

‘What’s Fallen Angels?’ Castiel asked, the name sparking his interest because no, it couldn’t be what he thought it was.

‘A band,’ Harri explained. ‘Two of our residents are in it, there’s five of them in total. They write their own music with the occasional cover thrown in. There’s Humanity’s Angel, too, which are always local. That’s two of the members of Fallen Angels whp have their own music going on on the side, and they never do covers. All their own. They don’t even cover the main band’s music.’

‘Seems like the people in the building are a pretty talented bunch,’ Dean mused, raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise.

‘Oh, they are,’ Dalia beamed. ‘I remember when I first moved in. Seeing half the talent in the building almost made me want to get back to what I used to do. Oh, those days …’

The conversation, which had seemingly come up out of nowhere when the duo approached, took a turn down the path of past stories and experiences. It turned out that Dalia used to do drag before she realized that she w _as_ a woman, and didn’t just like dressing up as one, and she used to sing in her performances too. And they found out that Harri played the violin. It was unfortunate to admit they had no talents themselves, although Dean joked that Cas was pretty talented at losing at cards, and then that got into the subject of what Dean and Cas’s evening had entailed as food arrive for all four of them, and they literally had no idea where any of this light hearted conversation had come out of.

And then they realized that both Dalia and Harri had become their friends, friends they could recognize and go up to and start talking to for no reason whatsoever.

They had friends in their apartment building.

They were at a drag show put on by people from their building, and they were watching it when it started again with people from their building.

The second show had different comedy routines, more songs to perform and lip sync to, a lot of extreme dance moves and gymnastics including cartwheels across the bar and a jump split from up on the bar to the floor, and then they tried to teach several audience members how to copy the moves and forced a group of them to learn and perform a choreographed simple dance routine with them, after which they critiqued the performances and gave “the one that sucked the least” a dick made of chocolate, and “the one that sucked ass more than every gay man in West Hollywood” a very wobbly rubber dick that they slapped him across the face with first.

When the show ended and the curtain closed and the tip jar was taken in, the queen duo were to be seen emerging from back stage through a door next to the stage, and they made a beeline straight for Harri and Dalia who waved, so by default, Dean and Cas, and suddenly even more unexpected and conversation was happening and the queens were apologizing for the harsh treatment of Dean and Cas and they were brushing it off saying not to worry about it and that it was funny, and suddenly the group of six were walking home together, two men, a small woman, a tall women and two drag queens reaching almost seven feet tall with natural height and heels and hair.

It was weird for Dean to be surrounded by people who were alive, human and seemed to like him and spoke to him like he was just a regular person and not someone who hunted demons and worked cases with angels, cases they couldn’t figure out, cases they were only in the building to work, the building in which they were making friends and as they entered remembering to grab their weekly tenant newsletter which had been delivered to their mail slot this morning that they’d forgotten about.

Harri left them at the first floor, and Dean, Cas and Dalia left behind the queens – the Russian one of which actually turning out to be Russian in life not just performance – on the fourth, and then Dean and Cas bid Dalia goodnight at her door and entered their apartment at almost two in the morning and the night had passed by such a quick flourish with such good company that it was hard to recall the entire thing, and hard to remember everything they’d talked about.

And also they were a little drunk. That didn’t matter much.

‘Tell me,’ said Dean, locking the door with some difficulty in the dark because he’d forgotten to turn on the light, ‘did we just agree to go out and see two different bands play on two different dates?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed, flicking the light on so suddenly it made Dean jump.

‘I can’t believe one of the guys in the band is called Hasdiel. _Hasdiel_. What the fuck even is that? It sounds like a shitty knock off version of Castiel.’

‘It’s an angel’s name actually,’ Castiel informed him. ‘I talked to him once, the guy. He and his brothers and his sister are all named after angels.’

‘I bet they’d love you. Hey – is that the guy you were talking to … this morning? Was that this morning, it was a long ass day if it was.’

‘That was this morning,’ Castiel confirmed, and confirming again, ‘and it was a long ass day.’

‘I’m tired.’

‘Clearly.’

‘And tipsy.’

‘Shocking.’

‘Not sure what I’m doing now.’

‘I know what _I’m_ doing,’ Castiel stated.

‘Oh yeah? What?’

‘Going to bed,’ Castiel declared, ‘so goodnight.’

Castiel walked off, Dean just a step behind him muttering ‘yeah, that’s a good idea.’

They reached the bedroom together and like earlier they didn’t bother taking things in turns and just plainly began stripping. Castiel didn’t bother with changing at all; he was tired and the day had lasted a thousand and his eyes felt vaguely unfocused, so he just shed his clothes and left them on the ground and crawled into bed in his underwear with the light still on, tossing Dean’s pillows to the ground as he did.

A shirtless Dean was suddenly on his knees on the floor next to Cas’s bed, and Cas’s eyes were on his.

‘Night, Cas,’ Dean said quietly, his smile soft and gentle.

‘Night, Dean,’ and before he knew what he was doing he had reached out a hand and placed it on Dean’s cheek, and then he slipped it back again and grabbed a handful of his covers to adjust them, while Dean pulled his off and picked up his pillows, leaving the room shirtless and robeless with his sweats hanging low, exposing the waistband of his underwear. It was highly unfortunate that he was wearing underwear, Castiel thought, as Dean turned off the light on his way out and Cas closed his eyes.

He was standing beneath a sky falling stars, and in the distance a family ran, playing beneath the shower of what looked like fireworks and shooting stars all mixed into one. They were on a hilltop with a picnic basket, and on a beach sitting on the rocks, and in the middle of the city where the stars were twinkling lights, and then the stars were back and they were visible through the window, and the sofa looked comfortable, the blankets and the fire warm, and the stories being told sounded impossible, because there was no way a scene so warm and happy could have a prequel so cruel and vicious, a past so bumpy and hard and covered with blood and death and decay.

‘That could be you, Castiel,’ said Metatron, and Castiel turned to find the shorter man at his side, watching with him. ‘You could have everything you see here. I gave you the chance. Why don’t you take it?’

And then Cas woke up with his heart beating in his chest so hard it was likely to ricochet straight out and do a couple of pirouettes in the air.

He began to calm down when he heard the running water in the next room and remembered that he wasn’t alone, Metatron was nowhere to be found around them and he was not, in fact, watching a family sit together relaying gory tales of the past that would never be told to children in the first place, because that was just bad parenting.

He heard the water turn off and he scrambled out of bed and practically fell into the closet to put on his robe and then he began picking up his clothes from last night. His phone and wallet were still in his jacket and he tossed them onto his bed for temporary keeping, and moved them once his clothes were securely put away, and his shirt in the laundry because it smelled like a bar.

Before he made his bed he swapped his underwear for swears, rapidly in case Dean emerged, and tossed his underwear into the laundry basket too, remembering that he’d be doing that load of laundry this week.

Cas was halfway through making his bed when Dean left the bathroom and they practically bumped into each other as Cas took steps back pulling his bed covers with him to get them even on both sides, because they’d seemingly fallen mostly to the opposite side.

‘Woah, hey there,’ Dean said cautiously as he almost walked straight into Cas’s back, and lightly placed his hands on Cas’s waist from behind as he maneuvered himself away and released. ‘We wouldn’t want to crash, now would we?’

‘Dean,’ Castiel said in ultimate relief, still slightly shaken from the unpleasantness of his dream, and before he could stop himself he forced himself on Dean, wrapping his arms tightly around him and clinging on for the brief second he allowed himself to.

And then he pulled back and restrained himself from ferociously jumping on him again.

‘Hey, hey, what’s wrong?’ Dean asked while Cas was still pulling away, hands lingering and then finding their way to Cas’s shoulders and stayed holding on there.

‘Nothing,’ Castiel lied feebly, swallowing back a sudden rush of comforting feelings that had gagged him. ‘I … just … hi.’

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted back, frowning uncertainly while still managing to smile at him. ‘You okay?’

‘I am now,’ Castiel said decidedly.

And then he pushed himself forward again against Dean more gently this time, and he pressed his face into Dean’s neck, and he allowed himself to be vulnerable just for one second, one measly second, because that dream had been horrible and as much as he enjoyed watching happy things play out, he didn’t much like being trapped with them, invisible, with Metatron at his side.

Once separated from Dean again, he took several steps away from him and resumed making his bed.

‘So what’s for breakfast?’ he asked conversationally, as if nothing had even happened.

‘Uh …’ Dean said, thrown, then cleared his throat. ‘Ever had French toast?’

‘What’s that?’

‘That’s part of what’s for breakfast, then,’ Dean decided. ‘So you’ll find out. And we still have some bacon and sausages and eggs … if that’s okay with you.’

‘Anything is okay with me. Do you need me wait to shower until after breakfast, or –’

‘No, no,’ Dean assured while Cas straightened his pillows. ‘I can wait before I start it. It’ll be ready by the time you get out. So … I’ll go get on that.’

Dean backed out with a smile and finger guns and the most awkward looking wink Cas had ever seen, then again most things Dean did looked awkward unless he was in the right mindset to be doing those things, like yesterday with the winking at him after he, as “Robert” had told Sam he and Cas had sept together.

Cas was kinda wishing he’d caught Dean pre-shower so that they’d both have had their chests exposed while hugging. Skin against skin. But even skin against Dean’s shirt was more comforting than the dream that had disturbed him more than it should have.

The shower helped, too, although it was unfortunate that he was washing away the essence of Dean, though there was a bonus in the fact that later he’d get to do laundry and wash some of Dean’s clothes as well his own, so he supposed he could look forward to that, and he supposed he could look forward to breakfast too, which smelled good when he entered the kitchen and saw Dean at the frying pan, pushing things around.

‘Better?’ Dean greeted.

‘Better,’ Castiel confirmed, walking over to where Dean was cooking and standing next to him, feeling a lot better than he had after waking. ‘Need any help?’

‘Grab plates,’ Dean requested, ‘this is almost done. But besides that, no.’

Castiel followed the request and had gotten the plates out just in time for Dean to put the food on them. He carried them over to the table and Dean followed shortly behind him with cutlery and coffee. They sat across from each other and began to eat and out of courtesy, Dean didn’t ask any more details about what Cas felt better about, and instead just considered himself lucky that Cas had hugged him in the first place.

 _Twice_.

‘So, about that list we made,’ Dean said conversationally, ‘are we doing it in order or are we doing it whatever way?’

‘I was thinking about starting with laundry,’ Castiel considered, recalling it as one of the things he’d thought about in the shower to distract himself. ‘That way, while I wait for it to wash, I can do other things, and the same while I wait for it to dry.’

‘That’s a good idea, actually,’ Dean nodded, not looking at Cas, his eyes on a sausage he was dipping in brown sauce because god fucking damn he was a good cook if he did say so himself. ‘I’ll do the same with the sheets and stuff. Get it out of the way.’

‘And then we can go shopping last.’

‘Exactly. And it’s a good thing we’re shopping today, we’re out of bread.’

‘Well, we did use a lot. A lot of sandwiches. Some toast. You know.’

‘Yeah, exactly,’ Dean agreed.

As they continued breakfast, there were a lot of compliments made about the food and a lot of Dean brushing it off and saying he’d just seasoned it a little while it was cooking, that was all, nothing special, he did it all the time …

Not exactly true. When he cooked for just himself he usually made basic ass stuff and he never made breakfast for Sam because Sam ate weird oats and mush for breakfast most days, something akin to fruity vomit and some days, then something that looked weirdly like honey drizzled jizz in a pot on others.

They did the dishes together, their usual after-breakfast activity, and as Cas dried the final washed dish Dean dried his hands then briefly placed one on Cas’s upper back, almost in a comforting manner in reference to whatever Cas had been freaked out about this morning, before he stepped away and went to strip the bed of all sheets and covers and cases.

Castiel soon joined him in the bedroom ad grabbed hold of the laundry basket, offering it to Dean to put the sheets in, but Dean declined with a shake of his head, having made a sack of sorts out of one of the fitted sheets, with the rest of the things screwed within, Dean holding the sides and corners closed keeping it all in.

With basket and sheet sack, they left the apartment and went down to the laundry room, and found they were not alone, and they weren’t with strangers either.

‘ _Dudes_.’

It was Lexi, the Supernatural fan, and the third person from the elevator they hadn’t seen more of like with Lexi and Kat; this was the one who had been afraid of a thing from an elevator or something.

‘Hey there,’ Dean greeted, raising his eyebrows.

Castiel smirked because Dean, Supernatural fan, hilarity.  

Lexi saluted them, grinning, and after their greeting she got back to her conversation with the other one, while the other one sorted laundry into two separate baskets, Lexi perched on top of one of the machines rather than helping.

‘So I asked,’ Lexi went on to her friend, ‘and DL says it’s based on an old movie from years ago combined with that ritual you did, and it’s sorta based on this other thing that happened this year. It’s kinda … blech.’

‘What thing?’

‘Did you hear about Elisa Lam? She died in like February or something.’

‘No, I was homeless in February. Remember?’

‘Oh. Okay. I’ll tell you about it all later, I’ll use the internet and stuff. But there’s this ritual and this death and this movie, and that’s all what the movie was based on.’

‘It’s kinda said that it’s not going to be released, though,’ the friend said sadly. ‘I mean, it was good. And terrifying. And real.’

‘Real. As. _Fuck_. But controversial – the person the main character is based on literally died _this year_. Guess the dynamic duo will have to wait for another opportunity for their on-screen acting debut.’

‘Sucks.’

‘Yeah. Hey – do you think I should do that ritual? I’m bored and it’s only … almost eleven months until Halloween. Not long at all.’

The friend laughed. Dean and Castiel looked at each other suspiciously, loading the machines slowly so they could listen.

‘Do it. I dare you to do it. The crosses are super scary so don’t look out the window. And _don’t_ look at the woman because I swear I’ve seen her here.’

‘I know, Evan, we all know,’ Lexi reminded her. ‘You tell us you’ve seen her almost every day. Maybe you released her into our world from another dimension.’

‘ _Don’t_ ,’ Evan groaned in the face of Lexi’s wicked grin.

‘I’m doing the ritual tonight. After the show.’

‘It’s your funeral. Come on, I’m done. Let’s go ask if she’s coming to Piper and Dani’s show tonight or if she has to babysit.’

Lexi jumped down and the girls began to leave. Lexi offered Dean and Cas a wave as they left, and Dean and Cas continued loading laundry, now at normal speed.

‘Ritual,’ Dean repeated quietly. ‘That doesn’t sound too good.’

‘It could be harmless,’ Castiel countered. ‘Many rituals humans come up with are. And as Supernatural fans, these are humans likely to do as many rituals as they can to try and see something paranormal.’

‘True,’ Dean agreed, pouring in detergent, ‘but at the same time … that Evan seemed pretty freaked out.’

‘Well, we’re going to the same show as they are tonight,’ Castiel reasoned, ‘so maybe we can leave at the same time and walk behind them on the way back here and see if they mention the ritual again. Or the movie apparently based on it.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Dean agreed. ‘So are you going to stop staring at me all intense like that and actually put my underwear in the machine, or …?’

Castiel turned his head back to his task and realized both of his hands had the last two things he’d been about to put in the machine in them; in one hand a pair of Dean’s underwear possibly the worst possible thing to have been holding during his pause, and in the other one of his own shirts.

‘Shut up, Dean,’ Castiel requested, sensing Dean’s teasing nature, ‘I was distracted talking about something that could be … something.’

‘You know, if you want to fondle my underwear, there’s plenty in the closet. Or if you want to fondle my _used_ underwear, well …’

Dean winked and ran a thumb around the top of his jeans.

‘I’d rather stick my hand in a tank of vicious, unfed piranhas.’

‘Wow, fucking _rude_.’

Dean clearly wasn’t offended, he was just being dramatic. Castiel ignored him and closed the door of the machine, put some detergent in the correct slot and turned the machine on. He seized the basket and began sweeping out, Dean close behind seeming like he’d almost forgotten what they were doing.

Back upstairs, Castiel replaced the basket in the closet, and they got down to their respective tasks. Castiel decided to go from the worst to the least horrible, so he got gloves and brushes and bleach and it was time to tackle a toilet thankfully less gross than a public one. Actually, come to think of it, both of the damn toilets in the apartment combined were probably less gross than just the _seat_ of a public one.

Dean seemed to have the same idea, so he was going to start with the bathroom floors. He started with the one in the small bathroom while Cas tackled the toilet in the larger bathroom, and they finished around relatively the same time, basically just swapping rooms. And then Cas washed his hands thoroughly and moved on the shower cleaning while Dean was still mopping, so it was the two of them working in harmony for a while until Dean left and Cas moved onto the sink and soon left, too, and after the sink in the smaller bathroom he washed out the kitchen sink, alone while Dean was on the balcony, but no longer alone soon after, and hilarity ensued as Dean attempted to walk without slipping on the floor Cas was washing.

They didn’t talk much. Dean put on some music for them to work to, and the time passed quickly, and it seemed like as soon as Dean had turned the music on he was turning it off again and everything smelled like soap and bleach and all the surfaces were damp and drying.

They would be dry by the time they got back from shopping, which they soon went off to do after a quick break and a drink, and some lunch which they were going to go out to get because Dean wasn’t about to make anything on surfaces that were still drying, or in an oven still airing out. He’d once made the mistake of cooking in a freshly cleaned oven and the stench of the hot, burning soap remains in the damp oven interior stank and contaminated the food.

No, best wait for it to dry out completely. It’d be dry by dinner.

They went to a place on the Sunset Strip they’d by once and made a note to revisit called The Burger Lounge, where they grabbed burgers with fries and a split side of onion rings. They also split their drinks; neither of them could choose between a shake and a float, so they got both and sadly, two straws for each.

Once they were satisfied and full, they left for shopping, which was getting easier and easier with every shop. They got the things they were low on plus a few other things like chocolate bars and chips and popcorn for movie night on Mondays and for general snacking, and Dean carried the basket as his lost game had dictated, and they came across some interesting looking jarred sauces so they got two, for Dean to try out with two different pasta bakes with different meats and different cheeses added to each one. It had turned out that Cas really liked pasta, and Dean liked to experiment with new things combined with old and he liked to make Cas happy, so he would make as much pasta as Cas desired, and with as much mozzarella as Cas desired as he’d discovered Cas had grown fond of.

Hell, Dean would have eaten nothing but carrots and lettuce for the rest of his life if it made Cas happy.

Although, he did draw the line at broccoli.

But thankfully, Cas was … uh … what was the word? Oh yeah, _sane_.

Shopping for things completely-free of Sam-influences was a blessing he wished he could get used to, but he’d been trying for years to convert Sam into someone more human than rabbit but it just didn’t seem to be working. Ugh, there were times when Dean saw Sam eat some kind of weird soggy leaf he didn’t even have a name for and Dean wished Sam would just go back to drinking demon blood if he was going eat gross ass shit.

They stocked the cupboards and fridge together, and then got down to the last ring of the weekly chores; the replacing of the covers on the duvets, which at times could be described as something akin to crawling back into hell if it didn’t go right. Earlier in the day Cas had put all of their clothes and towels away after they’d been washed, but this was something they’d rather procrastinate because the duvet just wouldn’t fucking _fall_ and even as Dean tugged it, Cas holding the corners, lumps appeared here, there, everywhere like it was the emergency room of the dermatology department and no matter what they fucking did the lumps wouldn’t fucking go away.

‘Maybe we got lucky the first time around,’ Dean groaned from the crawlspace of hell. ‘The first time they went on so much more easily.’

‘They were freshly bought then,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘whereas now we’ve been using them every night. They’re more weathered and more awkward.’

‘That logic, luck, whatever,’ Dean mumbled, trying to straighten things out from the inside, ‘all I know is we’re damn unlucky now.’

‘I wouldn’t say _I’m_ unlucky,’ Castiel said slowly, and it sounded like he was smirking and it sounded like he was referring to more than just the fact that this was Dean’s job so therefore Dean had been the one who had to crawl inside.

And then he got it.

‘Quit staring at my ass.’

‘You can’t prove anything.’

Dean, finally satisfied with the placement, managed to wriggle free.

‘What happened to the piranhas, huh?’

‘That was in reference to my hands,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I said nothing about my eyes.’

‘Keep your eyes in check,’ Dean commanded although please don’t please stare at whatever you fucking want Jesus Christ almighty undress me with your eyes until there’s no more clothes left in the world for me to put on and take off again.

‘There’s another one you may have to crawl inside,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘I’ll see what happens and let you know where my eyes end up.’

‘How courteous of you.’

Thankfully, but regretfully, he didn’t have to climb inside the other one. It didn’t twist as much as the first, and the bed was remade and looked and smelled fresh.

They left the bedroom, and Dean put his hand on Cas’s back as they walked for … literally no reason whatsoever, and then they sat down, their tasks done.

The rest of the day passed in a flourish, a flurry of other actives including cards and ping pong and cooking and music and television and reading, and then that night’s episode of Once Upon A Time satisfied them after the last episode’s cliff hanger, although the ending of it caused multiple new worries to sprout, and after the episode they discussed it feverishly, and Dean got into telling Cas a more detailed summary than he had last week of the series and the characters within it.

‘Gold is in a movie called The Full Monty,’ Dean told Cas informatively, once they’d gone past the characters and into the random facts Dean knew about the cast. ‘And there’s a guy in that movie who’s in Game of Thrones, too. He plays Robert Baratheon which is about a big of a difference in characters as Gold and his Full Monty character.’

‘What’s that movie about?’ Castiel asked.

So Dean told Cas about the movie, and Castiel was eager to watch it and Dean had no objections to watching a movie about men learning to do a stripping routine together with Cas because why the hell would he. Last week he may have had a problem with it, but this week he couldn’t care less.

‘Next movie night,’ Castiel requested.

‘I actually wanted to show you this one TV show then, though …’ Dean muttered. ‘And there’s this other really good movie too I’d like to see again, called Walk the Line. Snow White from the show is in it … I don’t know anything with anyone else in it, though.’

‘Okay, then … show me the show and we can watch those two movies another time. The week after. But … we might not be here the week after …’

‘See, that’s the problem,’ Dean groaned. ‘So much to show you. So little time to do it in. I’d say we should start tonight, but the show we have to go to is in twenty minutes and we should get going.’

‘What if we made tomorrow … an entire movie _day_ , then?’ Castiel asked, standing up and preparing to grab his things to go out. ‘You could show me the show in the day time and the movies in the evening with food and the blanket like last week.’

‘Yeah, okay!’ Dean said a little too enthusiastically, and he had to force himself to cut back on that particular emotion. ‘I mean, sure. If you want. Cool. A day where we just chill out and watch some TV. Sounds awesome.’

‘Alright, then,’ said Cas, giving Dean an odd look due to Dean’s sudden manor change.

They spoke no more of it as they left on foot, the bar they were heading to close to the one from last night, hand in hand from before they left the apartment, setting off to the nice, hour-and-a-half long show due to start at 9:30.

They got themselves a decent table and some drinks, in the moderately crowded bar. The ones closest to the stage were all taken, but the middle-area of closeness was still decently unoccupied.

‘See anyone we know tonight?’ Dean asked, grabbing Cas’s hand across the table just in case.

‘Oh my fucking _god_. I’m fucking _dying_.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel answered, hearing the two choice phrases said by Lexi, at a table with Evan and Kat not too far from theirs. ‘I hear them, too.’

Castiel spoke far more quietly than Lexi had.

‘I wonder why she’s dying?’ Dean muttered, leaning closer to Cas so she wouldn’t hear or be able to read his lips.

‘Literally just shove a Cadillac up my ass and shoot me into the sun.’

It was very, very hard for Cas to turn his laugh into a cough when he realized that Lexi was looking over at he and Dean as he looked past her into the distance, but still able to see her just not entirely in focus.

‘I think you’re what’s killing her,’ Castiel muttered, leaning in even closer and barely moving his lips when he spoke. ‘She may be a bigger fan of those books than we initially thought.’

‘Well, _I’m_ not going to shove a Cadillac up her ass,’ Dean said delicately. ‘So she’ll just have to chill out or find someone else to do it.’

‘I don’t think she meant it _literally_ , Dean,’ Castiel replied disapprovingly. ‘Despite using that as her starting word.’

‘Can you _imagine_ having an entire car shoved up your ass?’ Dean asked as if he was thinking of it seriously. ‘That would take so fucking much training. It would take _years_ of training. I don’t even know if they’d make butt plugs in sizes increasing as far up as the size of a car. And the amount of lube that would take, shit …’

‘What’s a butt plug?’

‘Sex toy of sorts,’ Dean shrugged. ‘You shove it up your ass – or preferably someone else shoves it up your ass and doesn’t let you take it out until they say so, the less lube and the bigger the plug used, the crueler the game. But better, man. So much better. Oh, and there’s these hollow ones you can get, I’ve only seen one once, oh man. Keeps you wide open for whoever’s about to –’

‘Uh, Dean?’ Castiel asked, looking mildly surprised. ‘That may be a little too much information you’re sharing. Although it does make me wonder who the hell shoved plugs in your ass.’

‘I was twenty five, dad was away on a case for two months, Sam was at Stanford and I had a sex friend. Sorry – I didn’t freak you out with all of that, did I?’

‘No, of course not,’ Castiel replied with a frown. ‘I was just trying to protect your modesty.’

Dean laughed, and Cas with him, at how ridiculous that was. Modesty. As if Dean had any of that left in him.

Castiel had only stopped him for Dean’s own good, because he knew how Dean got when he revealed too much and regretted it.

And as for Dean, well … he’d gotten carried away, remembering the guy who’s name he didn’t even remember, and imagining Cas in his place.

He wondered if his ass still remembered the gradual stretching due to the various sizes of those plugs from a million years ago, hollow one included.

He felt his cheeks get slightly red under Cas’s intense gaze.

‘So, would _you_ shove a Cadillac up anyone’s ass?’ Dean asked conversationally.

‘As … a torture method? Maybe. Or maybe I’d do it to you, when you annoy me.’

‘Harsh.’

‘You do realize that it’s not humanly possible to get a Cadillac up a human asshole, don’t you?’

‘Okay, maybe not,’ Dean agreed. ‘Still, plenty you can cram up there though.’

‘I suppose,’ Castiel muttered, then, ‘it’s starting.’

And so it did start, and out came Dani, opening the show for the first three minutes before Piper came out and interrupted her when she expressed condolences for Piper not being able to make it therefore disappointing her fans, then they were off on a back and forth thing of comedy with stories and jokes and jabs and anecdotes with such casual ease, talking to and interacting with the audience so much it was difficult to remember that they were actually doing a show and not just having a conversation with the people watching and with each other, and it was one hell of a funny conversation.

Each segway and each story led to something different, and it all melded together perfectly and the time flew by, and before they knew it the show was over and Dean and Cas were sitting in high spirits after some laughter and a few drinks, but now it was time to get serious again and focus because the three girls including the extreme Supernatural fan were leaving, and Lexi had said something about a ritual she was going to do, so Dean and Cas followed close behind as they walked at a decent pace.

‘One year,’ said the blonde, Kat, Lexi’s girlfriend, as they left. ‘One damn year and I can buy us drinks in there.’

‘We should go to London again,’ said Lexi. ‘It’s legal for us to drink there and all the people were super nice. And the _accents_.’

‘But we only went there for that stupid event that wasn’t even good,’ Kat complained. ‘Like, I expected it to be good like one over here, but it _sucked_.’

‘There was a guy dressed as Snape. And another one as The Tenth Doctor. And we left too early every day.’

‘It still sucked in comparison to what I was expecting.’

‘Maybe lower your expectations next time.’

‘Whatever. I’d rather stay in and draw, anyway. Dad’s been teaching me Disney style and I want to draw fanart of Harry and Ginny as Disney characters.’

‘Do Ron and Hermione too,’ Evan suggested.

‘ _Lame_ ,’ Lexi moaned. ‘Do something _gayer_. Heterosexuality offends me.’

‘Harry and Ginny are both bi.’

‘Yeah, but they’re a male and female couple. And that’s stupid.’

‘ _You’re_ stupid,’ Kat countered. ‘You’re the one who’s going to mess around in an elevator just because of a stupid thing on the internet and a stupid movie demo my dads were in that’s not even getting released.’

‘Evan says she saw something.’

‘I _did_ ,’ Evan backed up. ‘I didn’t just _see_ something. The ritual _worked_. I went to the other world.’

‘There’s no such thing as going to another world, at least not like that,’ Kat insisted. ‘This isn’t like that wormhole episode of Doctor Who. Things don’t work that way. You can only get through to other dimensions by like … spells and stuff. And even then it’s rare. I’ve never heard of a case where it’s happened.’

‘What makes you an expert?’ Lexi demanded.

‘Because.’

‘Because what?’

‘Be _cause_.’

‘She’s right, though,’ Dean muttered so low that Cas could barely hear him.

‘You can open doors with spells, but it’s almost impossible to go through them,’ Castiel agreed just as quietly, looking at Dean seriously as they walked. ‘Do you think … maybe she knows something?’

‘Who knows, these days?’ Dean asked. ‘Maybe she knows a hunter or something. Or maybe she used to know a – _FUCK_.’

Dean had been leaning in so close to Cas, their faces practically touching, not looking where they were going, that Dean had walked straight into a fucking light post and now his shoulder was going to fucking fall off.

‘Dean!’ Castiel exclaimed in shock, because he hadn’t seen the post either, reaching out to gently touch Dean’s arm below the shoulder, ‘are you okay?’

‘Kill me.’

‘Oh, so you are.’

‘Fucking kill me,’ Dean whined. ‘Aw, _man_. I was tortured less in hell. _Right_ on the fucking bone. Of all the fucking places.’

‘You were tortured less _where_?’ came Lexi’s voice from behind them.

Dean’s exclamation had been so loud that he’d made all three girls stop and turn to look at was going on.

‘Hell,’ Dean replied, following up with a smooth lie, ‘it’s what we used to call high school gym class. Our teacher was a fan of dodge ball.’

‘Dean from the Supernatural books was a gym teacher once,’ Lexi said conversationally. ‘He wore shorts.’

‘But in Wendigo he said he doesn’t do shorts,’ added Evan.

‘Yeah, well, people lie,’ Dean shrugged, rubbing his shoulder as he did so. ‘I once told my brother there was no hole in his pants after he thought he heard a rip. And the dude’s ass was hanging out for the rest of the day.’

That got four laughs, although Cas’s was the one he liked to hear the most, and Cas’s was the hand he liked to feel casually touching him as he easily intertwined their hands again for show now that Dean was no longer his own shoulder.

‘That’s sounds like something Dean would do,’ Evan thought out loud. ‘Or early Dean. Not so much Dean when trying to stop the apocalypse or during it … maybe like book one or two, before Sam died and Dean sold his soul. Or maybe even book three before Dean died and went to hell.’

‘Not high school gym class hell,’ Lexi added. ‘Like actual hell.’

‘I gathered,’ Dean nodded, ‘you know, when you said he died.’

He felt Cas’s hand tighten its hold on his at the mention of hell.

‘And then he met Castiel,’ said Kat with a sigh. ‘I like those books. Those books seem accurate on stuff. They don’t have stupid stuff with elevators leading to alternate dimensions.’

‘They what now?’ Dean asked.

‘Walk with us,’ Kat instructed, and so the group continued walking. ‘Okay, so my dads were in this low budget movie based on this thing called the elevator ritual combined with a weird death that happened in LA this year which had circumstances a lot like ones from this weird movie from two thousand two, and ever since these two watched it they’ve been obsessed with the ritual and the elevator to another world. And they should know that’s not how it works because they’ve read the Supernatural books and that’s not how it works in them.’

‘There’s literal angels and demons and gods in those books,’ Lexi listed. ‘Who’s to say there’s no way to get to other worlds? Dean was in hell. Sam went to hell and that’s where it ended. They went to heaven once. Who’s to say the other world isn’t … I don’t know, purgatory?’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look.

‘I don’t think it would be possible to get to purgatory through an elevator,’ Castiel said, ‘unless the ritual were to open a door for some reason … what exactly does the other world look like, supposedly?’

‘I’ve been there, so I know _exactly_ what it looks like,’ Evan boasted. ‘And it looks just like the tenth floor of our building except it was empty and there was no one but me there. And out the window there were burning upside down crosses in the sky with gross dead bodies on them, and there were rotting corpses in the elevator too when I got back to it, and the girl from the ritual was gone …’

‘The who now?’ asked Dean.

‘During the ritual this girl gets in with you,’ said Evan, ‘and you can’t talk to her or even look at her or else she’ll kill you. She gets in at the fifth floor which is the last floor you go to before you press the button for the first floor and if it worked it takes you to the tenth floor. And it _worked_.’

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look. It wasn’t purgatory, and it definitely didn’t sound like a plausible ritual or outcome. More like a story insisted upon to try and bend and spook an unyielding friend.

‘I’ve always imagined purgatory more as a grey area,’ Dean mused.

‘Maybe like a forest,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Trees, a lake, monsters running around, all of the rejects that wouldn’t fit into heaven and hell …’

‘Like … the arena from thee seventy fourth Hunger Games but grey and with monsters?’ asked Lexi.

Dean remembered seeing the movie at one point after it came out last year, watching it with a sickly Sam, weak from all of those hell-gate closing rituals, the two of them not hunting for a few days at Dean’s insistence. Pretty good movie.

‘Yeah, like that,’ Dean agreed, ‘but instead of angry tributes from district one … vampires. And werewolves. And leviathans.’

‘You’ve seen the hunger games?’ Lexi asked, sounding surprise.

‘Yeah, once.’

‘… Why? You’re like … old.’

‘Hey,’ Dean frowned, as Castiel started to laugh. ‘No, I’m not. And sure, I watched it. Don’t judge me, Jennifer Lawrence is hot.’

Lexi paused, staring at him as they walked.

‘You are _so_ Dean,’ she muttered. ‘Soo … if you think Jen is hot … but you’re with a dude … does that mean you’re like, bi?’

Dean swallowed. It’s not like this was someone he was ever going to see again once the case ended.

‘Yeah.’

‘ _So_ Dean,’ Lexi said in disbelief. ‘Dean from Supernatural is bi too. It’s totally obvious. He checks out men and women all the time and he flirts with cops and you _know_ he’s bowlegged for a reason.’

Bowlegged for a fucking reason. Jesus fuck. SHIT. Dean wished he could straighten his legs.

‘And he looks at a naked cupid’s crotch. And he looks at Ash’s crotch too when he opens the door naked at the roadhouse,’ added Evan.

Dean remembered the time Ash, poor guy, had opened his bedroom door while completely naked. So it hadn’t even got past that prophet that he’d glanced at the guy’s crotch for – for – for – a _second_ , no fucking longer, for a _second._

Wait, shit, so everyone who read those books knew he was bi?

Sam had read the books. Did _Sam_ know? Shit. No, no, he couldn’t. He fucking couldn’t.

‘Cool,’ Dean said stiffly.

‘One of my dad’s is bi,’ Kat added. ‘And a bunch of my uncles. Some are pan, though, and one of my aunts is pan too. And my abuela is bi. She has a pride tattoo between her boobs. She looks good for sixty but that thing is gonna look like a couple of pink, purple and blue snakes in ten years.’

‘Damn,’ Dean said softly. ‘That’s one … queer family.’

‘My mom was a lesbian,’ Kat added. ‘And the other was pan. And my sister’s mom was bi.’

Wait a second. Two moms. Two dads. Seeming to know a lot about the aspect of the non-book supernatural.

Blonde hair.

Twenty.

A blonde haired girl seen from the back as he looked over at the family …

No, it couldn’t be, Cas thought. It had to be a coincidence.

This was _not_ Hasdiel’s oldest daughter.

‘Seems like a complicated family,’ Dean commented, not disrespectfully.

Of course Dean was calm. Dean didn’t know. Dean was clueless.

‘Yup,’ Kat nodded. ‘And then my moms died and things got … they got even weirder. But everything’s cool now.’

This was Hasdiel’s fucking daughter.

‘My mom died, too,’ Dean said sympathetically. ‘When I was a kid. And my dad died a few years ago so I know what a mess that can be. But you get through it in the end, right?’

‘Right,’ Kat confirmed, grinning up at him with a sparkle in her eyes which in the light of the street looked golden brown.

_Hasdiel’s daughter._

The literal offspring of a former angel. Cas wondered if she knew.

She _had_ to know. Didn’t she?

‘And then we read books about people with worse lives than us like The Hunger Games and Supernatural,’ Lexi added, then, ‘my family died when I was eight.’

‘Mine all died before I was born except my mom but we got separated and the got reunited when I was seventeen and she passed away a little over a year later,’ Evan added.

‘My father has been absent since before I was … born,’ Castiel added, talking about actual and literal in all definitions of the word, God. ‘And my mother …’ Well, he didn’t have one. ‘That’s complicated.’

‘Life’s a mess,’ said Kat, to agreements from all of the others.

‘On the bright side,’ Lexi piped up, ‘at least none of us have ever been to hell.’

Dean laughed.

‘Yeah, at least we all have that.’

‘So,’ Lexi said brightly. ‘Anyone wanna stay in the lobby and watch me do the ritual? Invitation extended to DeanCas.’

She’d said “DeanCas” as one word. Okay then.

‘I’d rather eat a cat,’ said Evan. ‘I’m not seeing that thing again.’

‘I’ll stay,’ said Kat,’ to prove to you there’s nothing.’

‘I’ll stay, too,’ said Dean. ‘I want to see this ritual.’

‘And me,’ added Cas.

‘Awesome,’ Lexi said with a smug grin.

On the last few minutes of their walk back to the building, Dean and Cas were grilled for information on their relationship, and they avoided making puns about angels or demons or hell because that would be dangerous around these girls because they might launch into Supernatural references. They received many ‘awwwww’s and ‘oh my god’s in response to what seemed like nothing, and then they got on to hearing about these three.

So, Kat’s story was already solidified by her brief telling, but Lexi’s wasn’t; she lived with an aunt after her parents died who was a friend of Kat’s parents, and now she lived with Kat and Evan in an apartment on the ninth floor, paid for in part by Kat’s dads who made decent income, and Evan had joined them a few months ago as their goofy straight friend when David, one of Kat’s dads, had found her on the street with nowhere to go after being shunned out of the homeless shelter she’d been in by some slightly older, very angry girls. She’d ended up on the streets after her mother died shortly after her eighteenth birthday the previous July and had mostly gone from shelter to shelter, and she had no other family.

‘Dad likes to give to the homeless a lot,’ Kat explained. ‘He’s got some spare cash most of the time. He teaches two classes and gets paid to do music gigs and he does a lot of musical theater, and my other dad is almost the same. And since Evan was just a little younger than me they couldn’t resist and they took her in and now she lives with us in our spare room we used to use as a multi-purpose room.’

‘They seem like angels,’ Castiel commented slyly. ‘And extremely benevolent.’

‘Pretty much,’ Kat agreed.

She looked like she was smirking. But Cas was in on her secret joke with herself.

Once in the building, Evan left straight away and took the stairs, and Lexi got hyped up for her ritual.

‘It’s not going to wo-ork,’ Kat practically sang.

‘Yes it is,’ Lexi said boldly. ‘All three of you just watch.’

And so, watch they did, as Lexi got into the elevator, and as the elevator went up and down through various floors, stopping on each.

Four. Two. Six. Two. Ten. Five. Ten.

There was a minute or two of nothingness and then it came back down to one.

Except, Lexi wasn’t in it. It was two strangers, laughing, young, and another stranger who Dean and Cas had seen around; the Japanese girl in the white torn dress, who stayed on while the strangers got off and made their way towards the doors. The shoeless girl pressed the button for the basement, and down she went, and then another light came on and the elevator went up to the tenth floor again.

‘That’ll be Lexi realizing she’s still here,’ Kat commented.

A few stops on other floors, and then Lexi was stepping out of the elevator in the lobby.

‘Well?’ Kat asked.

Dean and Cas watched her curiously.

‘Nothing,’ Lexi said stiffly.

Too stiffly.

‘Told you,’ said Kat.

‘Aw, man,’ Dean complained. ‘I was hoping there’d be something cool. Maybe it only works once per building.’

‘Maybe,’ Lexi said flatly, shrugging.

Dean glanced at Cas. He saw it too.

‘Let’s go home,’ Kat decided. ‘Floor?’

‘We’ll take the stairs,’ Dean said with a shake of his head when Kat looked at him and Cas. ‘We need more exercise.’

‘Exercise is overrated,’ Kat scoffed. ‘Night. It was nice meeting you two.’

Dean and Cas shot back variations of the same thing. Lexi merely waved.

As soon as the elevator was out of sight, they dashed back down the stairs they’d started to climb.

‘You remember the pattern?’ Dean asked.

‘Yes. And don’t forget what was said earlier; press the button for the first floor before the final trip to the tenth.’

They got in.

Four. Two. Six. Two. Ten. Five. Ten.

Nothing.

‘Huh,’ Dean commented. ‘Maybe she didn’t see something. Maybe she was just disappointed.’

‘Maybe,’ Castiel agreed. ‘It didn’t seem plausible anyway. Come on, let’s go home. I’m tired.’

Dean was very pleased to hear Cas say “home.”

The got back into the thoroughly ordinary elevator, and it began to decent to the third floor. They veered left towards their corridor, and then they walked along it.

And then Cas turned away and buried his face in Dean’s shoulder because there, scratched into the door with a knife, were the words, “God hates you, Castiel.”

It was a sight worse than the dripping blood that surrounded it.


	20. From Blood to Snow

It only took a second of Cas’s face pressed against Dean’s shoulder and a moment of Dean’s hand lightly on his back for Cas to compose himself, sigh it out and unlock the door, sweeping into the apartment without looking back.

‘Who do we have to call to get a new door?’ Castiel asked, pushing off his jacket and draping it over his arm as he went straight towards the bedroom. ‘Or to get that … painted? Would the words still show up if they were painted? They were carved in but the lines were thin. They’re only scratches.’

‘Cas …’

‘Can we do it ourselves? We could buy white paint. Is that even allowed? Or do we _have_ to call someone about it?’

‘Aren’t you more interested in _who_ fucking did it?’ Dean asked.

They’d reached the bedroom now, and Castiel was emptying his pockets before he hung up his jacket, and once he did he started to unbutton his shirt when Dean grabbed him.

‘Cas,’ he said seriously. ‘Come on.’

‘There’s cameras,’ Castiel stated blankly. ‘We can … we can do what you do and hack into them, can’t we? Or find the footage from last night and see who did it? It’s easy. Not a problem.’

Dean dropped his arms and allowed Castiel to continue casually stripping in front of him.

‘But Cas, I mean …’

‘Yes?’

‘… Are _you_ okay?’

‘Part of me already thought it was targeting me from the very first message inside the walls,’ Castiel said with a shrug. ‘So yes, Dean. I’m fine. I’m done. I’m over it. I don’t care. I know what people like this think about people like me, people like the ones in this building, and I know it’s ridiculous and stupid so could we please get over this and could you please take off your shirt or something so I’m not the only one standing here half naked?’

Dean surveyed him and his stance, and then removed his jacket, flannel and t-shirt in quick and fluid motions, draping them all over his arm. Castiel grabbed his sweats and hung up his shirt and then stepped away silently and disappeared into the bathroom to change the rest of the way, because he wasn’t wearing underwear while sleeping because it was more comfortable without, and he wasn’t about to get completely naked in front of Dean because that was plain weird.

Dean was still standing there, completely changed too, leaning against the closet with his arms folded across his chest, watching Cas as he emerged. Because Dean was in the way, Cas just dropped what he’d been wearing his lower half on the floor and walked up to him.

‘Goodnight,’ Castiel said blatantly, flatly, looking Dean right in the face.

‘That’s it?’ Dean asked. ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’

‘It’s … late. I’m tired. You’re tired. We seem to be going to bed. What else _is_ there to say?’

Dean watched him, his eyes peeled for signs of anything else he could read in his features, but there was nothing.

‘Nothing,’ Dean shrugged. ‘There’s nothing. Night, Cas.’

And then Dean swept out.

‘You forgot your stuff,’ Castiel muttered, turning and seeing the still doubly made bed as he went to pick up the clothes he had dropped and put them in the closet.

Dean came back in.

‘Forgot …’

He pointed roughly. Cas made a gesture. Dean grabbed the things from the bed and left again. Castiel continued to the closet and put away his things.

And then Dean came back and grabbed Cas so tightly he was sure he could feel the bones in his back start to press through to the front and then right into Dean’s chest, and he felt Dean’s toned, muscular back under his palms and he felt Dean’s shoulder beneath his chin and his neck against his cheek and he never, ever wanted it to end.

But it did end, and then Dean’s hand was on his face and his lips were on his forehead, and then he was gone and Cas’s forehead was burning and his entire body yearned for Dean to come back, but he had to settle for turning off the lights an pressing his face into his pillow while wishing it was Dean.

Cas truly _wasn’t_ bothered by the message of direct targeting.

Well, he was, but he was done. He hadn’t been lying when he said he was over it. He’d made his peace with the words “GOD HATES YOU.” when they were painted in capitals in blood, nameless but the threat just the same. He’d accepted that there were people and creatures who would think that, he’d accepted it was almost impossible to change that, and he’d accepted that the thing they were dealing with thought that.

So what, if the thing knew his name? It still didn’t know he was a former angel. It still didn’t know anything about him. It had probably just been watching him, learning about him, learning about all of the victims it wanted to kill next, and Cas wished it would just get on with it already so they could stop it, and he wouldn’t have to see Dean look at him with those big sad eyes full of sympathy and a little of what looked and stung like pity.

But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about the messages, he didn’t care about the targeting, he didn’t care that it knew his name. It wasn’t hard to overhear when he was talking to people, and the thing could be really good at hiding or blending in or maybe it could even turn invisible.

He didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, he didn’t care, and he didn’t care in his sleep, and he didn’t care when he woke up, and he didn’t care when –

‘Dean,’ Castiel stated, the first thing he said after opening his eyes.

Dean was on his bed and there was a speck of white on his elbow and another on his shirt, and his arms were bare and he was holding a plate in one hand, resting it lightly on his lap at the same time.

‘I made you breakfast,’ Dean stated, while Cas began to sit up. ‘It’s an omelet. With extra mozzarella and some of that cajun chicken you like.’

‘But it’s Monday.’

‘So?’

‘You make us breakfast on Sundays.’

‘Technically I didn’t make _us_ breakfast. I made _you_ breakfast. I had toast with Nutella so the toaster did most of the work.’

Castiel accepted the plate and then the fork, eyeing Dean up suspiciously.

‘Coffee,’ Dean added, pointing at the bedside table.

‘Why?’ Castiel asked.

‘Because,’ Dean shrugged, and that was his only reasoning. He went on talking as Cas stabbed his food with his fork. ‘So, the door is being replaced tomorrow, but we’re allowed to put a little plaster and paint over what’s on it until then, so I did that just before I made you breakfast if you’re wondering what the white stuff on me is. Oh, and right now I’m about to go out and rent season one of Friends and see if I can get The Full Monty and Walk the Line. Don’t bother getting fully dressed today. We’re not going anywhere. And no, this isn’t all about what was on the door – well, the breakfast is, I’ll admit that – but we said we’d do a whole day with the show and movies and stuff, so … yeah. But it’s only if you want, like if it seems like it’s just all about the door and you’d rather not then we don’t have to, I just thought I’d suggest it and–’

Castiel cut him off by kissing his cheek, and Dean stopped his rambling abruptly.

‘Do it,’ Castiel decided. ‘I’ll eat this and I’ll do the dishes and I’ll put on a shirt. You go rent things.’

‘Right,’ Dean nodded, getting off of the bed with a smile that could resolve all the wars and a look that put the cutest kitten out of business. ‘Right, okay. Enjoy. I won’t be long, so just … yeah. Enjoy. Don’t trip over the paint can or the plaster in the kitchen, they’re just there until I find a good way to get rid of them.’

He grabbed his jacket from the closet and put it on, adjusting it so that it covered the splash of paint on his shirt.

‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled for them,’ Castiel promised and Dean nodded as he put his hand on the door handle. ‘And Dean?’

‘Yeah?’ Dean asked, turning back, his eyes wide and beautiful.

‘Thank you.’

Dean nodded, and then he looked down as he left, looking almost bashful.

As Castiel finished his breakfast, he felt far better than he had last night, because Dean was perfect and everything he did was perfect and he seemed to care so much and it meant more to Cas than he could even fathom. He’d even admitted that the breakfast was about that stupid door, and he hadn’t tried to hide that fact, and Cas couldn’t express that gratitude in just two words and a cheek kiss.

But Dean must have known how grateful he was, because Dean knew him. Dean _got_ him. And that’s why he was honest, casual and kind about the whole thing and that’s why there was enough mozzarella in the omelet to choke the world’s largest rat.

It was with ease that Cas got up and ready for the day and changed out of nothing but a pair of sweats into a v-neck and his other sweats with underwear underneath, and then he made his bed and made it up with Dean’s bed stuff too, washed all of the dishes in the sink including the frying pan, dried them all and then decided to take a look at the door, which he opened and looked at carefully. He couldn’t make out the words and he caught the scent of drying paint, that part whiter than the rest of the door, which was now blood free, and over the words that had been carved in there, plaster covering the grooves made in the wood.

‘Shame, isn’t it?’

Castiel turned on saw their neighbor Dave at his door, looking sadly at him.

‘It could be worse,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I could have been one of the ones that was killed.’

‘Fair point,’ Dave agreed with a nod. ‘Hope the camera caught whoever did it.’

‘Me too,’ Castiel agreed.

The camera … the camera lingered on his mind, once again, as he wondered if this creature was one that could be caught on camera or not, and it stayed on his mind until Dean returned to find Cas distractedly reading on the sofa. He mentioned it to Dean as soon as he looked up from his book.

‘I asked,’ Dean told him. ‘They said they’ll go over the footage and get back to us. We can have a copy if we want, so I said we did.’

‘Good,’ Castiel said, nodding. ‘So … what did you get?’

‘Exactly what I said I would,’ Dean grinned, pulling out all odd the DVDs from the plastic bag he was carrying. ‘All of season one. I don’t know if we’ll get to finish it, but there’s always tomorrow. And both movies, look.’

‘And what else?’

‘… Nothing?’

‘Dean, please.’

Dean reached into the bag and pulled out three tubs of ice cream, a bag of pork rinds and a bag of gummy worms.

‘I went to the store for some pork rinds because I know you like those and I saw the rest and I couldn’t resist.’

‘I’ll take these,’ Castiel said promptly, grabbing the pork rinds and the chocolate fudge ice cream, ‘you put the rest away and bring me a spoon.’

‘What, am I your slave now?’

‘Please?’

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes as he got to his feet and he gave a little bow.

‘Whatever you say, your majesty.’

Dean grabbed the rest of the stuff. Cas opened the ice cream and the pork rinds and used the rinds as edible spoons until Dean brought him over a real one.

‘Seriously?’ he asked.

‘Try it,’ Castiel instructed, offering both the bag and the tub to Dean.

Dean did as Cas wished, as usual, and paused after swallowing.

‘You’re a genius. I’m going to change. Don’t eat all of it.’

‘I’ll save you some,’ Castiel promised as Dean left the room. ‘Or … one.’

 _Your majesty_ , Cas thought once Dean was gone. Dean thought he was _so_ funny. He thought he was so smart and so cute with that little jab. And he thought right.

When Dean returned he turned on the TV and set up the first disc, and then he sat next to Cas and he put the tub and the bag between them and alternated between rinds and spoons until the ice cream was gone.

The day clouded over into a day spent in New York City and episodes ran into each other and blurred into one long continuous story without a pause between. They snacked, they drank, they laughed, they were silent. At lunch Dean made some burgers out of some mince and some onion and herbs they’d bought yesterday, and the TV stayed on and was turned up when the sound of the burgers frying became loud, and they didn’t do the dishes but left them to sit in the sink as they continued their day.

When evening hit, they took a break to stretch their legs and get some fresh air on the balcony, and Dean ordered takeout while Cas set up the sofa bed and got the blanket from last Tuesday, which Dean kept folded in the closet on his side. And they talked until the food came, and for a while after, until Walk the Line started playing, which they’d decided to watch first because it was longer and Dean said it was more serious than The Full Monty was, and it turned out to be, too.

The story of Johnny Cash seemed to start off so well once he got his big break, but he went completely downhill from there and things were messy, although there was a happy ending, the journey together was far from that happy part of the words “happy ending.”

Tragically human.

This week, their barrier of choice was a bottle of fizzy red lemonade, and their legs were jammed against it and they slotted it right back between them after every drink from it. The extreme fizz in the drink caused some serious gas bubbles which could be swallowed back down easily, that was until Dean opened his mouth to make a comment about the movie and accidentally belched extremely loudly in Cas’s general direction.

‘Oh my god,’ Dean said in a panic, ‘Cas, I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry.’

And then Castiel _laughed_. More at Dean’s panic than at anything else, and then Dean calmed down, and there was no more uncomfortable swallowing of gas bubbles and there was no more panic and there was plenty more laughter and a thousand times more comfort with each other.

The Full Monty was fucking better than Dean remembered from the last three times he’d watched it. And Cas seemed to enjoy it straight off, too, and commented on the fact that Garry and Rumpelstiltskin seemed as unalike as two people could get, so that Robert Carlyle, the man who played them both, must be a very good actor.

As the movie went on, Cas took a liking to Dave, and then later on during the scene where everyone got arrested and two of them got away and climbed in through the window, standing extremely close and looking heated … something about that scene struck him as oddly familiar, and he shifted uncomfortably next to Dean.  

And his heart almost jumped out of his chest at the funeral when he realized they were holding hands, due to the fact that it was completely unexpected, but it brought him a pinch of joy to see that kind of thing on screen as well as in everything that surrounded him in the area. Two men, unashamedly holding hands for the reason of simply wanting to.

 _They_ didn’t have to do it for a fake relationship.  _They_ got to do it for real.

Cas was surprised, but also not actually very surprised at all, when Dean said up straighter from his slouched position when the ending performance came up, and there was a huge grin on his face and he was silently clapping along with the audience in the movie, and Cas didn’t know why, but he soon got into the spirit Dean seemed to be in and he really wanted those men to take their clothes off, finally, after the entire movie leading up to it.

And then he and Dean both clapped at the end as the credits started to roll.

It didn’t hit Cas until it was over that he and Dean had sat together and watched a group of men actually _strip_ and they’d seen men in red leather g-strings and they’d seen they’re naked asses and they were still lounging as casually as if they’d been watching Friends like they had been all day.

It was only 10:30, and there were junk food wrappers scattered over them, their shoulders were touching and the red lemonade bottle between them was empty.

‘It’s not too late yet,’ Dean commented. ‘A few more episodes of Friends?’

‘Sure,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘So what did you think?’ Dean asked, getting up to swap the disk.

‘I felt sorry for Dave’s self-confidence issues,’ Castiel admitted. ‘And that guy is pretty. The, uh … I can’t remember the names of two of them. But it’s the one who pulled down his pants at his audition. He’s pretty.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Dean asked, raising his eyebrows and flashing a smirk.

Castiel got his implications and gave him a look that shut them down immediately, leading to laughter as Dean stretched while walking over to the TV.

They watched two more episodes of Friends and they were nearing the end of the season before they went to bed. Castiel was reluctant to leave; his knee was against Dean’s and his shoulder was against Dean’s and their hands were resting extremely close together, right where the empty bottle had been before Dean had moved it, but he did have to leave and he did get to glimpse Dean casually pull off his shirt and get into bed before Cas had gotten all the way out of the room, and then when he got to bed he got to marvel in the greatness of the day.

And then the days started to whip by like airplanes flying past.

The door was replaced on Tuesday, and they got to see a copy of the security footage and found that a section of it had mysteriously vanished without a trace, and no one had tampered with it and no one had tampered with the camera either, so they concluded it was a creature that couldn’t be caught on film. On Tuesday they watched the rest of Friends, too, and they spent several hours trying to build a house of cards because Dean had never done it and he’d always wanted to, but they inevitably gave up because it just wouldn’t work. Wednesday they went out, and Thursday and Friday too, and Saturday and Sunday they spent the day inside, Sunday doing their household chores as they had the first time around, and on Monday they started Friends season two and they watched two movies that night, Shrek one and two, and Dean conveniently forgot to mention that technically they were children’s movies but he just really, really liked Shrek.

On most mornings one of them woke the other, and they never bothered with robes anymore unless it was cold, or they were lounging around for a few hours after breakfast before getting dressed.

On December ninth, Dean cut himself shaving because he sneezed while doing it and Cas went out to buy bandaids because Dean was whining because the cut was long, not just a little prick like usual shaving cuts, and it bled for a solid three minutes and he got his towel all bloody and wouldn’t take his towel away from his face until Cas got back with the bandaid and put it on for him and whatever blood was left to come out was contained and hidden beneath it.

‘You suffer injuries far worse every other day of your life, and you whine because of a little having cut?’ Castiel asked, udging him harshly.

‘It _stings_ ,’ Dean pouted. ‘Aches I can handle. Throbbing I can handle. But not _stinging_.’

The bandaid was ripped off two hours later, though, because it was itchy, and thankfully the cut had stopped bleeding. Although it did look like a nasty red scratch.

On December eleventh, Dean blocked one of the toilets and Cas had to go out and buy a plunger while Dean stayed continuously flushing and terrified the water was going to overflow. He’d always been weirdly afraid of the water level rising in toilets, and he was afraid of it vanishing, too, which it did after plunging it. The damn thing just made a violent sucking sound and the water, halfway up in the bowl, and everything in it just vanished, and there was no water left in the bowl whatsoever and Dean was afraid to flush in case it all came flooding out and wouldn’t stop. Cas eventually got fed up of him constantly asking about it with “what if” and went in and flushed the damn thing, and it went back to normal.

On December thirteenth, they went out with Harri and Dalia to see bands they’d agreed to go see, Fallen Angels and Humanity’s Angel, and they were both very good, playing in the same place one after the other since the members of the latter were both in the former. They’d seen the Supernatural fans there, too, and made some chatter as they were seated near each other, and none of them brought up that weird elevator ritual again. Also there were the two drag queens out of drag, and the transformation was truly phenomenal, and Dean and Cas and Harri and Dalia and both off-duty queens ended up getting drinks afterwards, and it was fun.

On December fourteenth, the weekly newsletter said for everyone to keep their eyes peeled, because Indie and India were sending out invitations to their annual Christmas party, and they’d be slipped under the doors of the people they decided to invite this year.

On December fifteenth, Cas fell asleep on Dean’s bed as the binge watched season three of Friends, them having decided to watch a few episodes in the evening and the few episodes had turned into  a full blown affair like their Monday nights, so Dean covered him up more securely and decided to sleep in Cas’s bed that night, and he felt sad that it was on Sundays they did laundry, because it meant he wasn’t laying his head in the case Cas had laid his head on, because it had been washed since the last time Cas had slept on it.

On December sixteenth, an invitation to the Christmas party was slipped under their door, and Dean got Christmas fever.

‘Just think about it,’ Dean said gleefully, ‘your second human holiday. You better buy me a present.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Surprise me.’

‘Okay, so a can of beer and a porn magazine it is.’ 

‘Aw, come on,’ Dean groaned over their lunch, ‘that’s not _personal_.’

‘I’ll wrap them and spray the paper with my deodorant?’

‘Better,’ Dean grinned. ‘So, you know what this means don’t you?’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘ _Christmas shopping_ ,’ Dean beamed. ‘We can get a tree and it can go there, and we can get tinsel, and we can get fake snow to spray the glass wall with, and we can get Christmas crackers, and Christmas songs on cassette tape, and it will be completely fun.’

‘I didn’t know you were such a big fan of Christmas,’ Castiel commented.

‘I’m not usually,’ Dean shrugged. ‘But now we’re here. And we have time. And there hasn’t been a message in weeks and a murder in a month or ore and we’re about as close to solving this case as we were when we were searching through the walls, and you deserve to celebrate this at least once.’

‘You do realize this holiday is deprived from a pagan celebration of the winter solstice, right?’

‘Dude, why are you trying to spoil this? Come on. The day before Christmas Eve is Monday. We can watch Christmas movies. And we can have eggnog. And we can buy and eat hundreds of _Christmas cookies._ And then on Christmas Eve we can go to the party, and on Christmas Day I can cook …’

‘I’m not saying no,’ Castiel replied evenly, just before taking a bite out of his sandwich. It was a plain lunch today because they weren’t particularly hungry, just PB&J sandwiches with a handful of pork rinds each on the side, but it was _good_. ‘So … when do we do all of this Christmas shopping which, by the way, I don’t think the money obtained for this case was for.’

‘Shut up and eat your sandwich,’ Dean said eagerly. ‘Then we’ll go.’

Castiel obediently swallowed and immediately took another bite. Dean grinned in response. Castiel rolled his eyes and turned away, refusing to stare at Dean’s goofy, happy face no matter how much he wanted to.

They set out with their hands joined and the arms slightly swinging between them due to Dean’s good mood. They came across a few people in the elevator and in the parking lot some of whom they knew from sight thanks to their few weeks living in the building, then unjoined their hands when they got to the car.

They drove to the mall they went to on their first day of moving in and most stores sold decorations. They got a relatively small artificial tree, some decorations for it, song tinsel, a string of fake snowflakes, snow in a can and a dancing Santa to place next to the fire. They were unlucky in the department of finding Christmas music on tape, but it hardly mattered and they left for home, set for decorating.

Cas didn’t really get into the mood of the holiday as fast as Dean had seemed to. He’d been following Dean’s lead while shopping, and did as Dean instructed with the placement of tinsel over the backs of their kitchen chairs and around the mantle. He slowly warmed to it, though, when Dean got the tree out and then paused after getting the great idea of putting on Christmas music on his phone, and then things continued.

They positioned the tree together, in the corner behind the ping pong table, and pulled out and positioned all of the stiff branches pointing outwards, and then they cracked open the baubles and grabbed the rest of the tinsel and the lights, which they laid out on the ping pong table.

‘So, any deep angel knowledge on the history of Christmas trees?’ Dean asked casually, reaching for a bauble painted like an extremely fat reindeer. ‘Let me guess. Back when it was just a pagan celebration they used to worship trees or something. Or _sacrifice_ trees.’

‘Well, sort of,’ Castiel replied. The music in the background was helping his enjoyment of this activity, and working on one object with Dean was always a plus. ‘Pagans used to decorate their homes with the branches to remind them of the coming spring. Branches, trees, it became tradition, but the typical Christmas trees didn’t begin being used for a while, and when they did they were hung upside down like lights, and it started in Northern Europe. It started to become more of a known thing in the middle ages’ time period in history, in Latvia specifically, who claim to have been the first to use it, publically. In the early days of the tradition they were paraded around or set up in town squares, and the first person to actually bring it in the style that’s still used today, indoors and decorated, was Martin Luther.’

‘The … ninety nine thesis guy?’

‘Yes, him.’

‘Huh,’ Dean commented with a slight laugh. ‘Y’know, when I was a kid I always got him and Martin Luther King confused. I thought they were the same person for a while and when I found out they weren’t I just thought it was funny they had the same name until I found out King was named after that other guy.’

‘Humans naming children after other humans, or after themselves at times, has always been a confusing tradition in my opinion,’ said Cas. ‘In some cases of honor, I understand it. If someone of import dies, and someone close to them decides to name their child after them … but in many cases it’s just ridiculous. For example, three different King Georges of England named their son George, resulting in four Georges in a row. That’s just … self-import. However, naming people after others is done _right_ in A Game of Thrones and the following books. Like Robb after the king, a dear friend of his father’s, or Robert Arryn after the king too, a friend of _his_ father’s. Or Daenerys naming her son a meld of two names of people important to her.’

‘Yeah, reusing names father to son for generations is pretty stupid,’ Dean agreed. ‘Naming a kid after a their grandparent I get sometimes if they’re dead or something, but … four Georges in a row? Seriously?’

‘Don’t get me started on the Henrys.’

‘I know there were at least eight,’ Dean recalled. ‘Because the eighth one had a bunch of wives and killed them all or something.’

‘He killed two,’ Castiel corrected. ‘He divorced one, beheaded the next, and the third died. Then he divorced another, beheaded another –’

‘And another died?’

‘No, Henry died.’

‘Damn it,’ Dean muttered. ‘So close.’ And then going out on a branch away from the topic, ‘I think it’s super awesome you know this stuff. You know the history of all the countries and the people and the time periods … I bet you could tell me the name of the first ever person to … decide to become a farmer during the stone age.’

‘Cleff.’

‘You know that? No. You’re kidding me.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Holy shit.’

‘You know I watched all of history unravel,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘There was never much else to do but watch unless I had a mission of some sort. I can tell you the names of the first handful of humans on Earth, the first demons, the first angels. I can tell you the names of every god from every manmade or truemade religion. I can list every Roman emperor, every Egyptian Pharaoh, every monarchy from any country with a monarchy, up until events evened out and reigns became less significant like they are today.’

‘What do you mean less significant?’

‘Well, in most places, revolutions have ended, killing people for the throne has ended and the majority of the mind blowing inventions have been invented for now, unless tomorrow it was to be announced that someone managed to invent … time travel or something. This is the age of nuclear wars, electronics and messy, human politics making everything more complicated than needed as humans tend to do.

‘And now, on Earth, it’s harder to observe history and the world become what it is or will be, because I have to do it the way humans do it. Limited. Listen to the news, read it, watch out for things happening in the world. Things go slowly now and I never know what’s going to happen next. The closest I get to knowing what’s in store, even just for me or you in a day, is the other day when you were walking and not paying attention and tripped over a bench, or last movie night when we got Mexican food and I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as you for hours afterwards so now I know what will happen if we ever get it again.’

‘Hey,’ Dean muttered, playfully punching his shoulder. ‘Shut up.’

‘Another thing I know is going to happen, just through observation,’ Castiel went on, ‘is that it’s going to rain, because they sky is cloudy and the air is cool. And I know that … it’s likely we’re going to go shopping again soon, for gifts since you seem to be so keep on them for this holiday. And I know that if you pick up that many baubles at once –’

They cascaded to the floor from Dean’s hand and began bouncing at their feet.

‘That that’s going to happen.’

‘Could’ve warned me earlier,’ Dean muttered as the two of them scurried to find where they all rolled in different directions. ‘So … it was easier for you to see things that were going to happen? Before, when you were just … up there?’

‘I could see the progress being made from an outside view, and I could pay attention to anything I wanted, safely observing, unseen by anyone,’ Castiel nodded. ‘But now, I can’t watch inventors work for hours and quickly switch to watching Cleopatra marry and kill off her family and Roman emperors alike. I can’t watch Caligula forget to inform his troops of a battle and I can’t speculate about what he’s going to do to cover that up. I can’t watch as the Christmas tree tradition moves from country to country, the world gradually picking up on it. I can’t watch electric Christmas lights be invented to due to a hospital burning down because of the candles placed on the tree. But what I _can_ watch is you bumping your head if you don’t get lower when you emerge from under that table.’

‘Thanks for the heads up,’ Dean offered as he backed out. ‘Or the heads down as it may be. Who’s Caligula?’

‘A Roman Emperor,’ Castiel shrugged as they got back to the decorating of the tree. ‘He was little … off. He was convinced everyone was trying to kill him and so he killed most of the people he came across. And when he forgot to inform his troops of battle, like I mentioned before, he instructed the men he’d brought with him to whip the sea, because he … well, he was insane and was angry at the god of the sea, Poseidon, for some reason. I’m not sure why … I’m not inside his head, I just got to watch the actions play out.’

‘Cas, please tell me this is a joke,’ Dean pleaded.

‘Did you know that the Greek God Zeus gave birth through his forehead?’

‘Cas.’

‘Did you know that a Native American named Blackbird was buried sitting on his favorite horse?’

‘Dude.’

‘Did you know that the shortest war in all of history lasted less than an hour?’

‘Come on.’

‘Did you know one of the Lords of an ancient civilization called Incas used to drink from the skulls of his dead enemies, make bracelets and necklaces from human teeth and make flutes out of human bones? In fact, many people made flutes from bones and drums from skin, and their beer was made from actual human saliva.’

‘Cas, please, _please_ tell me you’re kidding.’

‘Did you know the word for “humans” was originally supposed to be “fatuus?”’

‘Cas, quit messing with me.’

‘Okay, I’ll admit that “fatuus” is a Latin plural word for idiot, fool, simpleton, stupid person and the likes. But the rest is completely true.’

‘Shit,’ Dean muttered.

They’d finished with the baubles and move on to lights, wrapping them around the tree together.

‘That’s a word you could use, I suppose,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Speaking _of_ shit, there were people who used to sell it to farmers as fertilizer. _Human_ , not animal. In ancient Rome, people used to collect it from high class public bathrooms and sell it to the poor.’

‘I feel so, so, sorry that you know all of this,’ Dean practically whimpered, ‘and that you had to actually _watch_ this shit happen. Pun intended.’

‘Pun appreciated. Humans used to do some insane things. Many still _do_. Although I don’t know the specific things people do day to day in some places that’s particularly insane seeming anymore. I’ve been out of the loop since … since rescuing you from hell, actually. And that’s not a bad thing, because it led to observation in a whole new light.’

‘Have all angels seen the things you’ve seen?’ Dean asked, the two of them wrapping the tree in tinsel now.

‘It depends,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Before the fall, there were many _still_ watching and waiting for a purpose, following orders when needed. And then there were those who never observed, who always worked, went on missions, or were stationed in places to do whatever it was they had to do there. Not all angels care enough to watch humanity like I did, although there are some who _watched_ like I did, but there’s a difference between watching and _observing_ , and you can never truly know what any being has observed, or cared enough to pay attention to, until you talk to them and ask. It’s all about what sparked their interest.’

‘And what sparked _your_ interest?’

‘Everything.’

‘Come on. Not _everything_.’

‘The good, the bad, the weird. The peaceful. I enjoyed the peaceful at times, and at times I enjoyed the drama of the bad, and I mostly enjoyed finding out the oddest, most unexpected or just the most … almost _disgusting_ of things. I thought finding out the best things right down to the sheer dirtiest, dankest of things would help me get to know the species I so much enjoyed observing better.’

‘And did it?’

Castiel sighed as they walked to the kitchen together, disposing of packaging from the decorations in the trash, Dean then walking to the drawer they kept the takeout menus in and Cas watching him.

‘Imagine you were placed in a jungle you’ve never been. Imagine you’re surrounded by strange animals which are not what you thought they were from reading about them before you decided to make the exception to this wild, ever-thriving jungle. Do you think that … reading books, or watching documentaries, could possibly prepare you for that?’

‘Hell no,’ Dean frowned. ‘You can’t get all the facts from a book. You can’t get the experience from watching someone else’s. You – oh, I get it. Damn. It was that bad?’

‘It still is,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘When I think about it. But … I’ve adapted to everything I’ve needed to, to get by. And the rest of the world can remain a mystery unless there’s ever a time I need to venture into it. Like the world that most people experience. Those with lives, jobs, futures involving nothing but human things, many of them frivolous, where the only harm they have to fear is a car wreck or a fire or falling down the stairs.’

‘Where we have to be wary of demons and dickbag angels and monsters and ghosts at every turn,’ Dean added on. ‘Like who gives a fuck who the president is, how high the taxes are or where the next paycheck is coming from, if the world is under attack by something that could wipe out life on Earth completely? Who cares whether people are going to be able to afford the new iPhone or not when there are literal monsters lurking around every corner?’

‘Exactly!’ Castiel agreed. ‘The world is split into two. Two worlds, one planet, and the two could meet at any moment with dire consequences. We all are in one world or the other. We all have the same basic needs and access to the same information about the world as a whole. But depending on which world we’re from, we lead very different lives.’

‘Like how we’re here to find some kind of ghost or monster or … or giant and literate pigeon creature for all we know, but everyone else in the building is here to live, go to work, go to school, reel in the paycheck so they can take their vacations to Barbados, try to find someone to do it all with if they’re single and repeat day in, day out, with some hobbies on the side and maybe an irrational fear of ghosts in a few while still thinking there’s no such thing.’

‘That’s the closest they get to our world,’ Castiel sighed, folding his arms. ‘They fear it. And if they knew of its existence …’

‘Let’s not think about that,’ Dean said darkly, still looking at the menus. ‘Now come on. I can’t stare at these all day. What do you want? Because I can’t pick.’

‘Just choose one at random without looking,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You can order and I’ll go get the movies. How many and what ones?’

‘Say … three,’ Dean decided, ‘and you pick. Whatever looks good.’

‘So … movies with the cast of Friends in them it is, then. If the food arrives before I get back, don’t start without me.’

‘Wouldn’t dream of it. Driving or walking?’

‘Can I drive? It looks like it’s going to rain.’

Dean tossed the keys which he’d left on the counter to Cas across the small space between them, and Cas caught them, turning away as soon as he did to get his jacket. While Cas was gone, Dean grabbed a random menu which turned out to be just a regular, non-specialty place which did everything from chicken nuggets to whole pizzas.

‘What do you want?’ Dean asked, holding up the menu as Cas veered for the door.

‘Order for me,’ Castiel instructed with a shrug. ‘You know what I like.’

‘You trust me?’ Dean asked with mischief, waggling his eyebrows.

‘You haven’t let me down yet,’ Castiel smiled at him. ‘I’ll be back soon.’

‘Buy snacks too.’

‘I will. See you.’

‘Adios, pal.’

Castiel left, and Dean’s entire being swelled and filled up with pride at the rhythm they’d fallen into in the past weeks. What with Dean finally trusting to Cas to drive his car solo, with each one of them being as reliable as the other to pick good snacks and to pick up random things from the store, and for them getting to know little things about each other that made choosing food a feat they could do in their sleep for the other, and so much more.

Dean ordered a few different dishes rather than one solid thing each, figuring since they both tended to like the same things give or take a few favorites, they could both pick from everything he’d ordered, then he put away the menus and swept off to get changed and get his bed pulled out and set up, and the fire on because the evenings were getting even cooler now, and apparently someone had complained about the overall temperature of the building at night so now that was cooler, too, and for the past two nights Dean had had to sleep with a shirt and this morning his nipples had looked like raisins through the fabric before the day started to pass over the coldest hours.

When he had everything set up, Dean took a few pictures of the decorations and sent them to Sam with the sarcastic caption, _Wish you were here xoxoxoxoxo_

“A star? What no angel?” Sam replied.

_I sent the pictures to Cas too, thought an angel might have been a little insensitive_

“So you catered your decorations to the fact you were gonna send Cas a pic?”

_Well yeah but just because he asked if I was decorating and asked for a picture_

“Whats he up to for the holidays?”

_Going to a friends place. Theres a party_

“Cas is going to a party?”

_Well thats what he said when I called_

“Cant imagine Cas at a party”

_Give him some credit_

“What else did you guys talk about?”

_The origin of christmas trees and other historical stuff. Did you know people used to collect and sell shit?_

“Yeah I read that somewhere”

_And some Roman whipped the ocean once_

“Caligula”

_That dude yeah_

“Sounds like you had a good talk”

_Well Cas isnt bad to talk to especially when youre stuck living with a guy who doesnt like talking and listens to classical music really loud_

“Maybe you should have worked the case with Cas.”

The period looked a little freaky but … okay.

 _Maybe_ , Dean replied, and double texted, _if nothing happens with this case in the next week or so maybe I might take a few days off and visit him_

“Bring him a present or something”

_I will. Maybe a new trench. He said he saw one but couldnt afford it_

“Yeah good call. I can barely imagine him being without one for this long its like a part of him or something”

_Exactly_

And now Cas had a way to explain the clothes he was going to switch to once the case was over. Dean was a genius.

And then Cas came back.

_Gotta go. J got back and wants to talk about hanukkah again. Hes Jewish_

“I figured when you said hanukkah. Keep me updated on if anything happens”

_I will_

‘Texting Sam?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yeah,’ Dean replied. ‘Said you’re Jewish. Well, not _you_ you. All I said about _you_ you is that I might take a few days off and visit you and bring you a new trench coat. Oh, and you’re going to a party with your friend at Christmas.’

‘Well technically I am.’

‘Yeah, true. What’s in the bag?’

‘Snacks.’

‘No, the _other_ bag. The one that’s not see through.’

‘Your present,’ Castiel smiled smugly. ‘Look, see, I bought wrapping paper too.’

The wrapping paper had been put on the table and Dean hadn’t noticed at first.

‘What did you buy me?’

‘None of your business,’ Castiel replied curtly, picking up the bag and carrying it into the bedroom out of harm’s way.

‘Good movie choices,’ Dean commented, when Cas got back. ‘She’s pregnant and he’s gay. Sounds fun.’

The first movie Dean had picked up was “The Object of My Affection” starring Jennifer Aniston and Paul Rudd. Which was funny because Paul Rudd was in Friends too and Cas didn’t even know that. The next had Lisa Kudrow and John Travolta and was called “Lucky Numbers” and the third, also starring Jennifer Aniston, was called “The Breakup.”

‘That one doesn’t seem like your kind of thing by the name, but I read the back and it seemed funny,’ Castiel defended his choice as Dean looked over it.

‘Hey, I’m down for anything,’ Dean shrugged. ‘If a movie about a love story between an ogre and a princess can be my thing, this can be my thing.’

Although no one but Cas would ever know the ogre-princess thing could be his thing because was damned if he was letting Sam know he liked a kid’s movie. But he couldn’t help it. A donkey fucked a dragon and it had Mike Myers and Eddie Murphy and he was a fan of both of them and there was a stupid little man who’s name was almost Lord Fuckwad.

So they got down to it as soon as the food arrived, and it was as good as ever night that had come before it, and Dean slouched to the side and leaned against Cas for most of it and it was a constant inner battle for Cas not to put his arms around Dean and hold him there.

It was very reluctantly that Dean sat up and the two of them got up to put away empty and semi-empty snack packets and takeout dishes they hadn’t already thrown out. When it came time for Cas to leave, tired, Dean didn’t want him to and kept tugging on his wrist every time he tried to walk away.

‘Come on,’ Dean begged, ‘please, five more minute. Tell me a story about … about … the ancient Aztecs or something.’

‘Dean, I’m _tired_ ,’ Castiel stressed.

‘It doesn’t have to be the Aztecs. Could be the Mayans. Or the ancient … Australians, what were they like?’

‘They were tired when it was nighttime,’ Castiel replied, pulling his wrist out of Dean’s grasp. ‘And so am I. Go to bed. You have to be in a good state of mind tomorrow so you can buy me a Christmas present because mine to you is so generous and fitting.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Dean sighed, as dramatic as an old Shakespearean actor, and let him go. ‘Night, Cas. You have crumbs on your ass.’

‘Well then you have crumbs on your bed. And if you kept your eyes at a respectable level you wouldn’t know what I have on my ass.’

‘Not underwear, that’s for sure,’ Dean added. ‘That’s obvious.’

‘Who wears underwear to bed anymore?’ Castiel said with a frown feigning disgust.

‘Not me anyway,’ Dean shrugged. ‘See?’

Dean pulled down the waistband of his sweats down low enough to make it obvious there was nothing underneath, but not so low as to reveal anything.

‘Stop trying to trick me into staying up longer, Dean, it’s midnight. Now _goodnight_.’

‘I’ll pull them down lower if you want?’ Dean offered hopelessly, but Cas had already turned and gone without another word.

So Dean returned to bed, brushed it off and climbed in, grabbed the blanket they’d been under and wrapped it around his pillow, Cas’s side facing up, and he placed his head down.

And when he woke up, Cas was making breakfast.

For _both_ of them.

Using the grilled cheese technique Dean had taught him and Cas had really started to perfect in the last week or so especially.

‘Sweet, sweet angel,’ Dean announced with a groan as he got up. ‘You’re a blessing.’

‘I was a little rude last night in my tiredness,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘I thought I’d make it up to you. I already made coffee.’

‘ _Bless_ you,’ Dean said graciously, heading towards the coffee as he always liked to do first thing in the morning.

Castiel grinned at him.

Dean wanted to see a Cas clad in slippers and robe in his kitchen every morning for the rest of his life.

Dean grabbed Cas’s head and kissed his temple, a hand press of his lips against it and a huge “MWAH” sound.

And it was no big deal because they did that now sometimes, and so the day commenced like any other, just a regular old Tuesday where they returned their rented DVDs, rented the next season of Friends they were due to watch, then went home, Dean quickly dashing out again to buy Cas a simple Christmas present, just something small because they weren’t being extravagant.

They ventured out into LA in the afternoon to visit The Grammy Museum which they had yet to visit and Dean had been wanting to, and Tuesday evening followed by much of Wednesday was spent watching Friends, playing some cards and then they played ping pong to determine who had to kill the spider that Dean had just come across in the bathroom and Cas lost so he went in and whacked it with a shoe and then chased Dean around with the shoe for a while, the dead spider crushed on the bottom of it.

Thursday they went out again, to Little Tokyo for the second time, and Friday they went to the farmers market for the second time. Saturday they spent in watching more friends and playing more cards and having lunch with Dalia because they’d run into her on their way out to get something, and after lunch they went home and each decided to strike up a texting conversation with Sam, eventually revealing to Sam that they were actually in the same place and that Dean had in fact gone to visit Cas after all and would be leaving the next morning to get back to his case.

‘I wish you would’ve told me when you were going so I could visit too,’ Sam complained when the texting turned into a phone call. ‘The three of us could have gone out.’

‘Sorry, Sammy,’ Dean offered, ‘but it was spontaneous. I had to get out of there for a while because J keeps humming weird music and it’s driving me insane. Next time, though. I promise.’

‘Whatever you say,’ said Sam, sounding like he didn’t really believe Dean’s promise.

After they had fun with Sam, they decided to have a few of the baked treats Dalia had given them after lunch, stuff that hadn’t sold in a day but was still fresh, and they looked forward to her promise of Christmas cookies on Christmas Eve, which she was bringing to the party she was also invited to.

Sunday swiftly followed Saturday, and they did their weekly tasks and during their shopping they bought a lot of Christmas treats and some food similar to what they’d had at Thanksgiving for Dean to cook on Christmas Day, and then it was Monday again and the week had flown by and now they were spending the entire day watching as many primarily comedic Christmas movies as Dean could rent including all of the Home Alone movies, Elf, The Nightmare Before Christmas and many others.

And, because Dean couldn’t resist and he was a big old softie who loved stupid movies like that and liked all the British accents in it, Love Actually, and he once again got to think about how weird it was that Snape and Trelawney were a thing in it.

Not that he knew that Alan Rickman played Snape and Emma Thompson played Trelawney.

Well, okay, he did, but it was only because of Charlie and her obsession with Harry Potter and her forcing him to watch all of the movies, supported by Sam who was just as big of a nerd.

He made sure to slip Love Actually in the middle of all the comedies, though, because it would have been dangerous territory to watch it first or last.

That night they went to bed in high spirits, and Dean didn’t cling to Cas, but he did hold onto his wrist and let his hand slowly slide down into holding onto Cas’s hand, their hands slipping apart as Cas walked away leaving Dean in bed with nothing but the lamp on to give him light, already comfortable under the duvet where he and Cas had both been because …

Well because they fucking wanted to be under it, that’s why, and the fact that they’d alternated between resting their heads on each others’ shoulders was an added bonus and just something that was fine that they did too.

And suddenly they were waking up and it was Christmas Eve, and they were putting their wrapped presents under the tree for tomorrow and staying in watching whatever movies were leftover, talking a lot, and at Dean’s suggestion playing a Christmas themed game of “Would You Rather?” a game which Cas seemed to enjoy as soon as he learned what it was, and a game they included Sam in through text now that they weren’t pretending to be in the same place anymore.

And Dean both hated and loved Cas when he’d asked, ‘would you rather fuck me or fuck a reindeer?’ and Cas replied, ‘aren’t those essentially the same? You’re both wild animals.’

‘Well, fuck you,’ Dean said grumpily.

‘Is that an option? Okay, I’ll fuck me, thank you.’

Dean glared. Cas grinned. Dean grabbed the can of spray snow they’d been messing with earlier and sprayed some on Cas’s pants. Cas sculpted Dean a nice Santa beard out of it. And then they fought about who was going to answer the door when someone knocked and it was both Harri and Dalia who were making their annual rounds together to wish a Merry Christmas Eve to everyone they knew, even if they’d be seeing them later, and Cas stood with his hands in front of his crotch and sat down at the kitchen table as soon as he could, and Dean wiped off his face while making coffee, and the four of them chatted about the fake snow and the holidays and what to expect at the party later.

A soon as the door closed behind them, Dean was laughing at the stain now on Cas’s pants, and Cas was shoving Dean’s in frustration, and Dean was still laughing, so Cas grabbed that stupid fake snow can and sprayed it right down the front of Dean’s pants and then laughed at Dean as he ran off to the larger bathroom, pulling off his jeans and almost tripping over them as he went.

Castiel _really_ liked Christmas and was definitely looking forward to the party in the evening, and he was definitely going to be on the lookout for many more opportunities until Christmas was over to make Dean squirm, and vaguely found himself wondering how they’d gone from bloody, scratched messages in doors at the beginning of the month, to torturing each other with fake snow as they neared the end of the same month.

Whatever the reasons may have been, he was enjoying every last second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shrek, Love Actually, Harry Potter ... yup, Dean is a regular old fangirl as big as those SPN fans and he doesn't even realize it.


	21. We're Adults, We're Mature

It was so cliché.

It was _so_ cliché.

It was so, so cliché.

It was so fucking cliché and Dean fucking hated that fact.

Even Cas knew how cliché it was.

But they didn’t mention it and they didn’t fucking care.

And here’s what happened:

They changed out of their snow-stained clothes and Dean spent a long time glaring at Cas afterwards muttering ‘I can’t believe you snowed on my dick.’

‘Please,’ Castiel scoffed. ‘I put it down your jeans but left your underwear perfectly in place. I don’t want an STD.’

‘Technically you’d have to have my dick in your ass or your mouth for that to happen.’

‘You make it sound like you actually have something for me to catch.’

‘Shut _up_ ,’ Dean groaned, shoving a laughing Cas away from him as they sat side by side.

‘Come on, Dean,’ Castiel appealed, sitting back up from where Dean had pushed him and placing his hands on Dean’s shoulders so that one arm was stretched around Dean’s back and their heads were close together, ‘you know I’m kidding. I know you do things safely. I saw your condoms, remember?’

‘Still don’t know why I brought them,’ Dean muttered. ‘Habit, probably.’

About a week and a half prior, Dean had been looking for something in the bag he kept under the sofa, and when he’d pulled it out due to not being able to find it, a small string of condoms had fallen out when he tilted it and Cas had teased him about it for days. But he _had_ just brought them out of habit, it’s not like intended to _use_ them. They’d just been among the things Dean usually tossed in his bag for a trip so he hadn’t even realized he’d packed them until he was already off on the first leg of the journey, the one to snatch up Cas for the case.

The party that evening started at six, and the invitation didn’t say it was formal so there was no need to dress up, but like he’d done on their very first day here to make a better impression, Dean wore one of his flannels buttoned up with nothing underneath rather than open over another shirt, and he and Cas basically sort of matched because they were wearing similar outfits in that sense.

They left the apartment a minute or two after six and got into the elevator to the tenth floor, where the queens lived, on the left side. They arrived between five and ten after, walking slowly so they wouldn’t arrive too early, and they didn’t arrive empty handed, but brought a tin of simple chocolate cookies with different variations of chocolate on or in them that they’d bought at the store.

They weren’t the first to arrive. Harri was already there, along with one stranger and with two people Castiel recognized, one more than the other. Hasdiel and his husband were there, talking to the stranger and Castiel felt a nervous flutter for no real reason when they broke off their conversation and went to greet the new arrivals.

There was a table laden with snacks and treats and drink and there was music and their tree was huge. They had things hanging from the ceiling and ornaments everywhere, and in these apartments there was a separate kitchen the entrance to which was a small archway, that had been strung with red, green and gold beads, as had the opening to the hallway that they were told led to the bedroom, drag room and bathroom.

‘Drag room?’ Castiel muttered when they could break away.

‘Well, they probably have a lot of drag stuff,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So they make use of that spare bedroom.’

Among the other guests was everyone else that lived in Dean and Cas’s side of the fourth floor, and the rest of were strangers but perfectly friendly ones who also lived in the building. There was a lot of idle chatter with people while the music played in the background, and there was some chat with Hasdiel and his husband David about when they’d gone to see their bands, Dean talking about how he liked their classic rock influenced sound and them talking about their inspirations and what not. Hasdiel had given Castiel a look that communicated their little inside thing, knowing about the angel thing and what not, but had said nothing else about their previous conversation.

There were some conversations it was difficult to take part in, like when they got mixed in with a group talking about work, and Indie and India, both in extremely Christmas themed drag, talked to a woman from the second floor about life as a social worker; the queens specialized in working with kids and teenagers in the LGBT+ community with non-understanding parents. Hasdiel and David joined in and talked about teaching and the woes of work, which gained some laughter as they talked about some of the stresses, and a doctor from the seventh floor talked about some drama going on at his clinic between some of the staff, and then suddenly everyone was talking about long hours and bad pay so Dean and Cas sidled out and flittered between other groups, feeling a little awkward and like outsiders, until they eventually just ended hanging out by the end of the snack table talking quietly amongst themselves with some laughter and jokes about what they did in comparison to what everyone else did for a living, briefly reprieving their conversation from the day they’d decorated about the two worlds within one, only this time in a more comedic light.

‘Well, well, well,’ said India, approaching the two of them after a time. ‘You two seem to be having fun.’

‘Defiantly,’ Dean answered her, still a little intimidated whenever she was in drag while out of it the intimidation factor was low. ‘We were just talking to Shane over there about Christmas in Australia. It sounds pretty awesome.’

Shane was an Australian man who lived on the eighth floor that they’d briefly chatted to as they flitted from group to group.

‘I’ve heard his stories,’ India nodded fondly. ‘Christmas in summer. On the beach. I wish I could go.’

‘It almost seems hard to imagine,’ Castiel commented.

‘It does,’ India agreed.

‘Did you tell them yet?’ asked Indie, appearing at India’s side with a smirk on her face.

‘Not yet,’ relied India.

‘Tell us …?’

‘Look up,’ Indie grinned wickedly.

Dean looked up. Cas looked up.

Oh _shit_.

‘We put it there to catch out anyone who lingered by the table,’ India said slyly. ‘In case of shy, non-minglers lingering on their own you know. But it works to catch out anyone, really, as it seems to have done in your case.’

Even Cas knew about mistletoe.

‘Apologies if we seemed like we were trying to sneak off,’ Dean said, lighthearted and horrifically nervous as he placed his hand on Cas’s lower back as what was supposed to seem like a simple, unconscious gesture. ‘But this guy said something funny about writing and what we do, so we just … dissolved off into our own world.’

 _Our own world._ The whole conversation about the world being split in two and them being a part of the one no one else here was. Castiel almost started laughing and had to cover his mouth to prevent him from doing so.

‘We’d like to hear about what it’s like being a writer,’ Indie said eagerly. ‘You don’t talk about it much and we’ve been trying to get you to every time we’ve seen you.’

‘That’s because it’s stressful,’ said Cas, moving his hand away from his mouth. People were starting to gather now, the ones who’d moved off from their conversations, moving onto the next. ‘And our line of work can be jarring. All the monsters, the demons, even the angels … that we write about,’ Castiel said very deliberately to try and make Dean laugh.

‘But we’d still be glad to talk about it,’ Dean assured. ‘Despite living in a world of the … supernatural.’

Cas could have kicked him. It shouldn’t have been so funny. But it _was_. And they were finding it hard to keep straight faces. He saw Hasdiel raise an eyebrow.

‘We’re eager to hear,’ India backed up Indie’s request, ‘but first …’

She pointed.

Fuck.

‘Oh, come on,’ Dean said lightly, throwing in some laughter. ‘Wouldn’t you rather hear about the writing thing?’

‘It’s not as though we’re people who tried to sneak off and got caught out by your trap,’ Castiel added quickly. ‘We were just distracted for a moment.’

‘Tough luck,’ said Dani, her arms folded, smirking, as she stood and watched and listened to events unfold before her. ‘If we had to do it last year, you have to do it this year. I want to be the witness instead of the victim for a change.’

‘Me too,’ added Shane the Australian, from the side of his partner who used neutral pronouns and preferred partner over boy/girlfriend or anything of the like. ‘Year before last _and_ last year. It’s not fair. They move it every year.’

‘Do it!’ said a woman from the fifth floor who’s name they’d already forgotten. ‘Kiss, you have to kiss!’

‘Kiss!’ piped up someone else as everyone, every single guest, began to gather round.

The chant began. The wicked grins pressured them. Dean and Cas turned towards each other and looked at the stupid, evil plant above them and Dean couldn’t believe a stupid soggy twig was about to force him to possibly ruin a perfectly great friendship.

‘Dean …’ Castiel said quietly, with a sigh, like he was giving in.

Dean nodded.

Then he died approximately one hundred and ninety thousand, four hundred and thirty five times.

They bumped noses once as they turned towards each other and leaned in, and then their lips touched as they wavered in and out of the correct stance, just a bump in their nervousness, then they finally touched properly, closed, pressed softly together for a second before they pulled away, almost like the first kiss of two ten year olds.

Their faces were still so close together that Dean could count every eyelash, and Cas every freckle. Dean’s eyes fluttered from Cas’s eyes, to his lips, to his eyes again.

And then their lips touched again, less gingerly this time, and they began to part, and Dean’s hand was on Cas’s face and Cas’s hand was at the back of Dean’s neck, his fingers stretching up into his hair, and their lips were parting even more and Dean felt the tip of his tongue touch against Cas’s, and then they were forced to pull away and take a step apart, because any farther and it would have fallen into inappropriate territory for a casual party gathering.

And then there was clapping and wolf whistles and winks and cheers and things commenced as normal and they had to make up a lot of bullshit about the art of writing, including an impromptu reading from Dean’s phone of their most recent work, where they basically just went back and forth relaying the hunting tactics they’d done when arriving, the building searches and the wall searches and they kept repeating something about it being a big mystery, while in reality they were staring at Dean’s lock screen of a guy in a long white coat that appeared to be a doctor.

A sexy doctor.

So, probably Doctor Sexy.

Those cowboy boots _were_ sexy.

‘Shut up,’ Dean muttered as he put his phone away, noting Cas’s smirk in relation to the picture.

‘So, that must be a phone Sam has never seen, then,’ Castiel presumed.

‘No, he’s seen the phone. But I changed the picture when I left a few weeks ago for show,’ Dean insisted. ‘Most people have some kind of lock screen these days. So what if someone around here saw mine? I wanted it to look like I actually have things I like.’

‘You _do_ have things you like.’

‘They don’t _know_ that.’

‘Sure, Dean.’

And then Castiel walked off towards a group of people who were now gathered around a picture of someone’s sister’s new puppy.

The party lasted a while, and ended around nine thirty. Dean and Castiel walked with Dalia and Harri, Dalia being the last of those from the fourth floor to leave, along with Dean and Cas, and Harri stuck with them because she and Dalia seemed to be very good friends. Harri ended up walking with them all the way towards Dalia’s door, and the group stopped outside it to finish their conversation where Dalia and Harri were now making fun of how petrified Dean and Cas had looked under that mistletoe.

Then they parted, Harri left back towards the elevator, Dalia went inside and Dean and Cas continued towards their place, slipping inside and locking the door behind them.

‘I’m going to change,’ Castiel decided. ‘Maybe … we could watch some more Friends before we go to bed? It’s early. It’s not even ten.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ Dean agreed and the two of them started walking towards the bedroom together, relaxed and casual. ‘You’re a good kisser, by the way.’

WELL HE HADN’T MEANT TO FUCKING SAY THAT. FUCK.

‘Am I?’ Castiel asked. ‘I haven’t done it much. I just … followed my instincts.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah. And you’re good too.’

‘Am I?’

‘Well, you’re better than the reaper and the demon I’ve had my past experiences with. I’m not sure if that’s a compliment if I don’t have much to compare it to. And they’re women, too, and you’re not, so I’m sure there’s even more differences there.’

‘Well, yeah,’ said Dean, sitting down on the end of Cas’s bed to take off his shoes, ‘in the fact that they’re women and I’m a man. Kind of the obvious one. They’ve got boobs and I don’t. They don’t have dicks and I do. Which you put _snow_ on.’

‘I. Did. _Not_ ,’ Castiel insisted in frustration. ‘If I wanted to I could have, but I didn’t. It would have been inappropriate for me to go so far as to do _this_.’

Castiel grabbed Dean’s belt and pulled it out like he had earlier, therefore pulling the waistband of his jeans forward, and then he slipped his other two fingers over the waistband of his underwear and pulled that forward, too.

‘Doesn’t _feel_ inappropriate,’ Dean muttered defensively.

‘No, but it would have been inappropriate to actually put something _into_ your pants.’

‘Oh yeah? And how do you know?’

‘Because if I do something like _this_ …’ Castiel used his free hand to place his fingers just inside Dean’s pants, like the top of the spray can, ‘it just feels … uh … well, fine  actually. I should have put snow on your dick.’

‘And that’s why you’re … you’re … you’re really pretty Cas, like, really pretty.’

No, no, that’s _not_ what he’d meant to say and he didn’t know why he had. It’s not like he could blame it on having alcohol in his system, because he _didn’t_. He’d steered clear of alcohol so it wouldn’t affect his mind and make him mess up in pretending to be a writer who was in love with Cas.

Or make him mess up in pretending to be a writer.

The rest wasn’t pretend.

And neither was Cas’s hand on his knee.

‘Thank you, Dean,’ Castiel replied gently.

‘And … your lips are pretty,’ Dean said sheepishly, raising a finger to graze across them. ‘And they’re soft. I like your lips.’

‘Thank you, again.’

‘And … you … you have really nice … shoulders.’ This time, Castiel stayed silent. ‘And your hands are so … they’re just … and your _arms_ are like …’

Cas grabbed his face and kissed him, and then Dean shut up.

This kiss was not slow or gentle like the one under the mistletoe. This kiss was hard and fierce and ferocious, and Cas’s lips may have been soft but they were pressing against Dean’s so, so hard, and he could feel Cas’s stubble and it was even better than feeling anyone else’s stubble on his face which had always been one of his favorite sensations anyway. He hadn’t paid attention to it under the mistletoe, but he was now, and as he fell back with Cas on top of him he was very glad they’d already sat down to remove their shoes and socks, because those were a bitch to remove in situations like these.

Cas was intimidating again. He was intimidating, hovering there above him like that, dipping down to kiss him again as they tried to scramble up the bed so Dean’s legs weren’t over the end, his feet still on the floor, and Cas didn’t have to be on all fours over Dean’s upper torso like some kind of large dog set to lick his face.

Dean didn’t move much at first. He kept his arms wrapped around Cas, steady on his back as Cas lay on top of him, one leg between his legs and the other on the outside of one of them, hand on Dean’s face, other hand between Dean’s back and the bed. Their lips were moving roughly and their tongues were making contact and Cas tasted like the chocolate covered peanuts he’d been eating at the party and Dean fucking loved peanuts even more now.

Cas’s hands moved from their positions to unbutton that first buttoned button on Dean’s shirt, and Dean still hadn’t fully realized that this was happening, whatever this was, not even as Cas made quick work of all of this buttons and his hands grazed Dean’s bare chest in a way they had yet to, and Dean raised up so he could pull his shirt off of his arms and toss it to the floor.

Now they were sitting up, Cas was on his knees and his legs were either side of Dean’s which were jammed firmly closed, and Cas’s hands were on Dean’s shoulders holding them more tightly than ever before, and Cas’s crotch was pressed against Dean’s stomach and Dean wondered if Cas could, and hoped he could, feel how hard Dean was under him, the way Dean could feel how hard Cas was against his stomach.

Dean finally got up the courage to begin unbuttoning Cas’s shirt, timid at first, but as Cas stopped kissing his mouth and moved on to plastering the same kinds of kisses on his jaw, he sped up his actions and thanked every fucking website on the internet that Cas had visited in his research about sexual exploits, and thanked himself, too, for telling him as much as he did in their casual conversations about it, too, and fuck was he glad that most of what Dean had told him hadn’t been just general, but had been his own personal preferences.

Cas’s tongue against his jawline was driving him insane and holy fucking hell he was rubbing his hands over those fucking muscles in Cas’s back he’d been fantasizing about for weeks and he was going to die but he couldn’t die because now they were laying back against the double pillows and Cas’s hands were on his belt and he thought he was going to cry when Cas opened it and moved right on to undoing Dean’s button and pulling down his zipper and THEN CAS’S HAND WAS IN HIS FUCKING PANTS AND PRESSING HIM THROUGH HIS UNDERWEAR AND HE WAS DEFINETLY GOING TO FUCKING DIE NOW.

But he didn’t die, instead he swallowed the lump in his throat and let his eyes close beyond his control as he pressed his head back into the pillows, exhaling a disappointed breath when Cas removed his hand and grabbed Dean’s jeans and started pulling them down and allowed Dean to kick them off once he’d gotten them down to the knees, then he took off his own for good measure, walking on his knees up Dean’s body and laying himself over Dean, moving his hips slowly, rubbing them together and Dean could see the pleasure on Cas’s face at the friction.

Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s throat and dragged them down to his chest, then up and across to his collarbone and farther up to his shoulders.

‘Turn over,’ Castiel commanded, talking for the first time since they’d started.

Dean followed the command gratefully, and took advantage of his new position to rub himself on the bed a few times and then he lay still and flat while Cas plastered his shoulders and back with kisses and tongue trails and holy shit Cas was trying to take off Dean’s underwear and Dean lifted his hips so Cas could do exactly that, and now he was naked and exposed and vulnerable beneath him, on his stomach while Cas’s face grazed down his spine, and he was all lips, tongue, lips, lips, tongue, stubble, hands on his sides, his waist, his hips, the very, very tops of his thighs either side of his ass, and then they were _on_ his ass, pulling the cheeks apart, and Dean got onto his knees, elbows and head on the pillows, ass in Cas’s face right where he’d wanted it to be for fucking _years_.

Cas was still pulling him open, his fingers digging into his cheeks, his thumbs pressing between them, and there was a pause, then –

CAS’S. FUCKING. TONGUE. JUST. FLICKED. AGAINST. HIS. FUCKING. ASSHOLE!!!

And it flicked against it again, and again, and then it ran around it in a circle and went back and forth, up and down over it, and Cas was spreading Dean’s cheeks wider and wider, occasionally coming up for air, and then Cas pressed his tongue inside, and Dean was so fucking grateful that he was one of those people who shit in the morning before showering so he was empty and clean and he hoped he didn’t taste like ass sweat.

Tongue swirling in and around for a while and then slipping down, down over the back of Dean’s balls and now Dean was dying because he’d finally gotten used to the thought of Cas rimming him and now he had to get used to Cas lapping at his balls too? Jesus _Christ_.

Cas pulled back, but only for a moment so he could turn onto his back, and then he was under Dean’s raised position, between his legs and his hands were reaching up and digging into Dean’s hips, and then one of those hands took hold of the base of Dean’s dick and positioned it so he could lick the tip while gently pushing back the foreskin which he didn’t have himself, but had read about how to deal with.

Cas’s tongue ran over the underside of the head. Dean died a farther two thousand and ninety three times after he’d died that hundred and ninety thousand and whatever times earlier.

It took a while for Cas to actually take Dean in his mouth; he teased and he teased and he licked in lines and swirls with the front and back of his tongue, and he dragged Dean’s dick back and forth over an unmoving tongue, and then he put just the very, very tip in his mouth. And then the whole head. And then he slowly took in as much as he could.

Cas went very, very slowly for two or three minutes and then he just stopped. He slipped out from between Dean’s legs, he got off the bed, and then he was gone, out of the bedroom and Dean rolled over, terrified for a moment, but then Cas was back and he was at the closet, moving all of his underwear forward to pick up his own lube which he hid at the back of his underwear drawer, and then he put the lube on the bed and put the one condom he’d torn off the strip of them on the bed, too, and Dean was so fucking glad he’d brought those stupid condoms Cas had made fun of him for in the first place.

Although Dean wouldn’t have minded going without with Cas. Cas had had sex all of one time, and with a reaper no less, and Dean doubted he’d caught anything from her. And as far as he knew, he himself was perfectly fine, too.

And honestly if he was being perfectly frank, if they _needed_ needed protection he’d use a fucking sandwich bag at this point because he was aching and longing for Cas and he knew using a fucking sandwich bag was gross but he needed Cas in his ass like he needed oxygen and sunlight and bacon.

He’d settle for Cas’s fingers, as the lubed up finger slipped in and Dean clenched around it and felt it pump, in and out, painfully show, and he felt his spine start to shiver, his dick start to _ache_ and his muscles all want to relax as he lay here, on his back now, legs sprawled, and he watched Cas’s face, Cas’s eyes focused, his face relaxed but serious, looking right at Dean as if to say “if you want me to stop, tell me to stop.”

But Dean said nothing, so another finger soon joined the first, and then a third, and it felt better than any other time he’d had three fingers inside him, going in and out as a clump of three, and then as three singles side by side, and then opening and closing inside him, stretching him, getting him ready, and as soon as he felt he was, he nodded.

So Cas pulled his fingers out and finally, finally took off his own underwear.

What the FUCK.

WHAT. THE. FUCK.

IT WASN’T JUST CAS’S FUCKING THIGHS THAT WERE FUCKING HUGE.

He’d seen a dick as big as Cas’s maybe one time. One fucking time. His size was rare and oh jesus fuck he was nOT FUCKING READY FOR THAT FUCKING THING.

And at the same time he’d never been more ready, and if it hurt he wanted to feel the burn.

What the fuck was that? Like nine, ten inches? It was like something someone would read in an online pornographic story or something, the amazing fantasy of an enormous throbbing cock or whatever. At least it wasn’t visibly throbbing. Yet? Jesus shit.

Dean grabbed the condom that was on the side of the bed next to him and he tore it open with his teeth, and he rolled it onto that … that _thing_ Cas had attached to him _._ Jesus _Christ_. He wanted that dick to slap him in the face, he wanted to coke on it, he wanted it to whack him and give him bruises, and he wanted it so far up his ass he choked on it again.

Would it even _fit_? If he took the whole thing in, would he be able to see it poking out in his stomach?

Okay, no, he was exaggerating, but _damn_. Cas was _hung._ Lucky bastard. Really hadn’t been lying about knowing what a giant dick looked like, then.

Cas put a little more lube on his now condom-clad dick and he did so by putting it in the palm of his hand and jerking himself slowly a few times and Dean almost came right then and there, seeing Cas’s actual hands on his own actual dick and he thought he was going to go light headed but he took a breath and waited, lifting his hips again and Cas grabbed them securely at the back, and then Dean guided Cas into position now that Cas’s hands weren’t free to do so, and Cas pushed in the head.

Oh wow. Oh wow oh wow oh WOW. Cas’s dick was in his ass. That … that sure was someth

FUCK

FUCKCKCKCKIIFDJDWJSKJFHEWFHOWVWVHOHWVBVRHWVRHHEBFOI

It burned. It fucking burned. And it burned in all the right ways. Cas slowly sank, deeper and deeper, watching Dean’s face for indication, and then he stopped. And then he pulled out again, but not all the way, just up to the tip. And he pushed in a little more firmly this time. Dean had never felt so full, and couldn’t help it when he started rocking his hips, and clenching around Cas, pulling in as Cas pulled out, and pushing out when Cas pushed in, slowly, so slowly, like he was living in slow motion on a screen that was also set to play the already slow motion sequence in slow motion.

The speed was a gradual build up. And then it was a revved engine and Cas was thrusting his hips forward and back, and Dean was rocking with him and locking his ankles around Cas’s waist as Cas held him up, and when Cas began only using one hand to hold him up, the other hand to jerk Dean off, Dean slammed his hands down into the bed to help support his position, his head pressed into the pillow, and it was like Cas was a fucking expert, like he’d mastered the act already like some magic fairytale thing except with sex, and if Cas was already good from reading the basics, Dean could barely imagine what he’d be like when he figured out all of Dean’s specific spots and areas.

That was … if they ever did this again which at this point Dean was unsure of.

But he didn’t care to think about that right now because he was losing the ability to string sentences together and the noises he was making didn’t even reflect human speech in any way.

Neither of them were particularly loud, Dean’s cries mostly reaching his throat and staying there, Cas only making the occasional grunt, his eyes shut tight, as he pushed himself in and out harder and faster and then slower and softer at his pleasure, and then suddenly when Dean was sure Cas must have been getting close by those movements that were so frantic it was like there was an emergency ahead, the harshness of it made Dean more and more vocal, nothing trapped in his throat anymore and there were tears in his eyes when he came all over himself and over Cas’s hand and Cas got the last drops out of him and then left go, grabbing Dean’s thigh and pushing, forcing himself inside Dean again and again, panting, a sheen of sweat glistening on him that would never have been there were he an angel, and then Cas came with a loud grunt and some heavy, heavy pants, slowing down like a machine powering down until he was barely moving at all and then slipped out, falling next to Dean, peeling the condom off and tying the end so nothing leaked out, flicking it ono the floor, and then pulling the top duvet up over the two of them as it had been pushed down half way on the bed already, and the air was cool as they began to cool off.

The only indication of how long they’d been laying there was the ache level in Dean’s ass as it slowly faded. And then the guilt began to creep in, because he’d tricked Cas into fucking him and ruined everything.

‘This is fine,’ Dean said out loud calmly to try reassure himself.

‘Yes,’ Castiel agreed, and Dean wasn’t surprised to hear Cas sounded just as nervous. ‘This … people do this, I’ve heard. People hook up sometimes.’

‘We’re adults, we’re mature, we can handle this,’ Dean agreed. ‘We’ve already established that you’re hot and I’m hot and we know that. So we just had to … relieve the tension a little. It’s cool. It’s fine.’

‘We’re just friends who … who had sex one time.’

‘Exactly,’ Dean agreed. He pulled the covers up a little higher, suddenly terrified of his undressed state, the state he’d craved they be in together for weeks. ‘I … uh … bathroom?’

‘Yeah, you go. That’s … that’s fine.’

‘I … I need … robe.’

Castiel looked over, and Dean could tell that Cas got it. He could tell Cas knew he was shy about just casually waltzing over to the closet completely naked. And he was good, and he was kind, so he got up and went and got Dean’s robe for him, and Dean couldn’t even bring himself to watch and look at what he’d been wanting to look out for weeks. Months. Years.

Dean slipped the robe on and slowly got up, walking gingerly across the room. He disappeared into the bathroom and leaned against the door for a moment, then dropped his robe to the floor as he went towards the toilet to wipe away the slick wetness still on his hole from the lube, wiping gently because it felt tender still, and he wiped off his dick and his chest where he’d came all over it and he washed his hands, and then he stopped to look in the mirror.

And then all at once, the rest of the guilt and the shame about the whole thing, about taking advantage, about ticking Cas, about messing up their friendship even though they’d both agreed that it was okay and people hooked up sometimes, it all swept over him and he started crying. Silent, his shoulders shaking, but tears began to fall and he didn’t know how to stop them and he knew it was stupid so he stopped, and he grabbed his robe, and put it on and went back to the mirror to wipe his eyes, and then his shoulders shook uncontrollably again and he pressed his hand over his mouth to stifle his quiet sobs.

He crumpled to the floor, his back against the door, until he finally, finally managed to stop it, swallow the lump in his throat and go back out into the bedroom, which Cas was just walking into again. Naked.

‘Bathroom too,’ Castiel explained, pointing out the door. ‘And I threw away the … y’know.’

Right. The condom Cas had been wearing when he came inside Dean.

Cas came inside Dean.

Dean came all over Cas’s hand.

Oh jeez.

‘I’m going to go to bed, now,’ Castiel decided, walking over to the bed.

Dean stood where he was after leaving the bathroom and watched Cas climb into bed, naked, under his own covers, Dean’s still on top of those. He watched Cas adjust the pillows, move Dean’s out of the way and lay down, on his back, still looking at Dean.

Dean finally spoke.

‘We’re … we’re adults,’ Dean said uncertainly, repeating himself. ‘We’re adults, we’re mature, and we’re friends, and we’re friends who hook up.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel confirmed.

‘Can’t … couldn’t that mean, I mean … we can be friends who sleep in the same bed too, right? For one night?’

‘I don’t see why not,’ Castiel shrugged.

Cas looked so casual. Dean felt the opposite as he gave him tight lipped smile and walked towards the light switch to turn it off, and then he walked around the bed and slipped off his robe and slipped under the covers, adjusting his pillow, and he lay on his back for a moment before he turned and put his back to Cas. He lay close to the edge of the bed.

Dean heard Cas turn over, and then he felt a warm hand on his waist and tensed, but managed to relax himself as he lay with Cas touching him minimally from across a long stretch, and it took him less time than he thought to fall asleep.

Only to be woken by a scream an hour later.

Cas was okay. That was the first thing he made sure of. Cas was okay and looing confused and horrified, too.

There was no time for getting dressed. They bolted out of bed and the lamp was turned on, and Dean grabbed his robe from the ground and Cas his from the closet, tossing out their slippers as he did so, and they closed and securely tied their robes as they scurried toward the door, unlocking it clumsily as they barged out into the hallway.

The scream had been Harri, who looked as though she’d been on her way to visit Dalia again, and she was clutching her throat and gasping for air, choking. At the end of the hallway, blank gunk oozed from the feet, the bare feet, of the Japanese girl in the torn dress, smirking as she choked Harri in mid-air from a distance.

A door opened up the hallway but was immediately slammed closed with a wave of the thing’s hand. Dean ran forward, and was thrown back to the floor, very narrowly missing the glass wall. He saw Cas run towards Harri and tried to get up, but as soon as he did Cas was thrown back into him and the two of them fell to the ground again, Dean’s head smacked against the ground hard and he was out cold.

When he woke, Cas was hovering above him clutching his face, and there was a bruise on Cas’s temple which Dean reached up and touched, but put no pressure on.

‘Dean,’ Castiel said joyously, pulling Dean upwards and into a hug. ‘You’re okay.’

‘My head fucking hurts though,’ Dean grumbled. ‘Are _you_ okay?’

‘Besides having my head slammed into a wall and accidentally flashing a hallway full of people? I’m fine. I’m about the same as you. But …’

Cas didn’t have to say anything more. Because he’d moved, and the scene before him was obvious; Piper was making sure Dave was okay and Dave’s cheek was cut and bleeding, and Dani was on her knees beside Dalia, who was kneeling in black, rotting gunk that was spread all down the hallway, and Dalia was crouched over …

‘No,’ Dean stated. ‘No, _no_.’

They’d come here to prevent more deaths. Instead, they’d been there while it happened.

‘It’s a witch, Dean,’ Cas said quietly. ‘I’m sure of it.’

‘Yeah, that looked like a spell,’ Dean agreed, swallowing hard as he made to stand up, Cas helping him do it. ‘Damn it, Cas. Damn it. _Damn_ it.’

Castiel pulled Dean to him, and they sought comfort in each other for their dead friend and for their mutual frustration, and things were back the way they had been before that stupid hook up.

They helped with consoling Dalia, who they found out had been in love with Harri and never told her, and they also found out that the reason Harri was visiting was because she and Dalia had been hooking up for the past six months which made Dean and Cas shuffle uncomfortably. It was a tragedy and like something out a movie, and Dave, after a medic checked him out, took Dalia into his own apartment to stay the night because she couldn’t be alone. Dean and Cas were checked out too, while Piper and Dani – locked inside rather than thrown around like the others had been – talked to the police.

Dean and Cas were given the okay, and thankfully neither one of them had even gotten a concussion from their head collisions, and then they had to wait to talk to the police, too. They claimed to have seen a group of people in masks, some of whom attacked them while the largest of them attacked Harri and another of which smashed the security camera, which had been smashed to pieces or so they were told.

Once things were over and everything seemed odd and incomplete, Dean and Cas took to the sofa and sat together, their heads touching, their hands joined.

‘I’ll tell Sam in the morning,’ Dean decided. ‘I’ll text him or call him and tell him about it. He can make hex bags or something and send them to us and we can get them into all of the apartments somehow.’

‘It’s Christmas,’ Castiel stated. ‘We can buy … an artificial potted plant for everyone. A small one. And put the hex bag in that.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, sighing. ‘Damn, man. We can here for a homophobic ghost and instead we got a homophobic witch. Fuck.’

‘I was sure I would be the next target,’ Castiel frowned. ‘Me or you. It’s our door she’s been defacing, and my name she wrote on it.’

‘Maybe Harri was just the easiest target?’

‘Maybe.’

They were silent for a while. And then Castiel stood up.

‘We should sleep,’ he decided. ‘There’s nothing we can do now but … go on as usual. With living. With the case. Do what we can.’

‘You’re right,’ Dean agreed, joining Cas on his feet. ‘There’s nothing. But we’ll figure this out, won’t we?’

‘We always do, Dean. Always.’

Cas gave a hint of an encouraging smile, which Dean returned with a full one, and they walked hand in hand to the bedroom that was _their_ bedroom just for one night.

And Dean was very glad he had Cas against his back when he finally fell asleep again, the night suddenly darkened to a point they never wanted it to be.

In the morning when Cas opened his eyes and saw Dean had rolled over in his sleep and was facing him now, all he did was stare. Dean had freckles on his eyelids, which was a new revelation for Cas who thought he’d mapped Dean’s face a thousand times perfectly, but this close he knew that was impossible. Those freckles, each individual eyelash and eyebrow hair, every last detail was just … impossible. There was no other word.

And then Cas had to roll away because yes, he was in love with Dean and yes, they’d had sex and slept in the same bed, but they’d agreed it was a onetime thing, a random hook up to relieve the tension that had been building. It wasn’t their fault that they were hot and attracted to each other.

Cas had had this whole being in love with Dean thing under control before, and he still had it under control after. Sex didn’t mean love. Dean wanting to put his legs in the air and have a dick in his ass for a while didn’t equal the l-word and meaningful declarations. It just meant he was horny and there was a guy around that could take care of that, it just happened to be his friend who was in love with him, no big deal.

And now it was Christmas Day, someone was dead and they knew what they were hunting. It was a homophobic _witch_ , not the ghost they’d set out for, and homophobic really was just a loose definition of all the other things phobic this thing was.

Cas grabbed a clean shirt and clean underwear and picked up his jeans from the floor, because his other pair were still covered in fake snow, and he went into the bathroom to get ready for the day, get the sweat of last night off of him along with any other remains of their activity.

Dean was up when Cas got out, and they exchanged some morning greetings before Dean slipped into the bathroom and Cas began making the bed.

The morning progressed as normal. They didn’t go out at all, Dean made breakfast and they ate it as if the day were any other, and then they exchanged presents from under the tree and Dean was confused when Cas suggested that after he unwraps it that Dean place his in the fridge for a while, and then he laughed his ass off when it turned out that Cas had actually gotten him a single beer and a porn mag and he had sprayed the wrapping paper with his deodorant.

‘I thought you were kidding,’ Dean laughed, Cas grinning at him.

‘No, Dean. I was completely serious.’

So Dean laughed again and gave Cas his present, a green bookmark with a single rose in it, green being Cas’s favorite color and the rose being in memory of the one Dean had bought Cas a few weeks ago that had withered and died.

‘That was a bitch to wrap, by the way, it’s so fucking small’ Dean told him once they’d hugged, so Cas hugged him again and lingered longer this time, and then they got down to business.

Dean told Sam about the witch thing and the death, so Sam said he’d get Kevin to help make the hex bags to get them done more quickly and send them in a box as soon as he was done.

Things went back to normal after that and the day commenced. Dean and Cas stayed in and watched TV all day, Dean cooked Christmas dinner and that night they went to bed in their separate, platonic beds, as they were supposed to.

The next morning, they had breakfast together and stayed in, feeling like if they went out they might seem too chipper after the recent death in their hallway. So they played some cards and watched some TV and Dean tried to convince Cas that his bruise was shaped like a dick.

‘No, it’s not _shaped_ like one,’ Castiel said, examining it in the mirror carefully having almost fallen for Dean’s ridiculousness, ‘but … hm. Less than an inch long … it’s the size of yours.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Dean whined. ‘Not this again. You’ve _seen_ mine. You can’t keep making fun of me like that now that I’ve _proven_ myself.’

‘Well then what am I supposed to make fun of when you’re being stupid?’ Castiel asked, frowning at him. ‘There’s nothing else I can say. Everything else is perfect.’

‘My legs,’ Dean suggested.

‘Alright. Well then … the bruise may not look like a dick but it seems to be pretty straight, unlike your legs.’

‘See? Better.’

‘I guess so,’ Castiel said with a false sigh.

 For lunch they had Christmas dinner leftovers. They still had a lot of turkey and some gravy left over, so that’s what they had, to finish up the extra gravy that hadn’t already gone into the bread in the sandwiches Dean had made like he had at Thanksgiving.

They sat at the table, discussing ways to kill the witch and ways to distribute the hex bags in their disguised state, and then Dean got some gravy on his pants.

‘At least it’s not snow,’ Castiel said optimistically. ‘And it’s not _in_ your pants.’

‘Yeah, you make a good point,’ Dean nodded. ‘Shit. I only brought two pairs and the others are in the laundry basket. What the fuck am I gonna do?’

‘It’s only a small stain,’ Castiel said casually, standing up and grabbing a tissue as he walked around the table and got on his knees in front of Dean. ‘I’m sure if we try we can get it off.’

Cas dabbed at the gravy with the napkin.

And he _did_ get it off, if “it” was Dean.

At first Cas hadn’t realized how gay dabbing at a stain close to Dean’s crotch was, but as soon as he realized he found himself dabbing more slowly even after all that he could dab off was done, leaving just a small brown mark that would need to be wet to get off, which is what Dean said as Cas ran his thumb across it, and by default across Dean’s thigh.

Castiel looked up slowly, putting the tissue on the table, Dean placing his finger under Cas’s chin to tilt it upwards …

And this time Dean was the one to initiate things, pulling Cas up against him so he could kiss him and the two of them stumbled towards the sofa, Dean trying to kick off his shoes as he did.

‘Nothing wrong with one last hookup,’ Dean murmured against Cas’s neck. ‘After all it’s the holiday season.’

‘Shut up,’ said Cas, ‘and take off your pants.’

Dean pulled his pants off as Cas dove beneath the sofa to grab Dean’s bag and get out another condom, and Dean’s lube this time. Dean kept his shirt on as Cas lubed up his fingers and pushed one into Dean, Dean’s legs spread around Cas, Cas pressing himself against his own arm between him and Dean so he could kiss Dean, using his other hand to grab onto Dean’s neck.

There was no intensive foreplay like there had been the first time. Castiel got Dean ready and open, then he pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, pushed in and lifted Dean slightly, his hands on his ass, though they were still very much doing it against the back of the sofa.

After a moment and some hard thrusts, Cas lifted Dean completely and turned around so it was him that was sitting on the sofa, and Dean was sitting with his knees either side of Cas, right on his dick, and Cas moved his hips and Dean used Cas’s shoulders to push himself up and then sink back down, repeatedly, rapidly, going up and down as fast as a jockey bounced on his horse during a fast race, Dean’s dick bouncing freely between them, and then trapped between them as Dean leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Cas’s neck, now using just his lower half to move himself, his face against Cas’s, their panting almost rhythmic with each other.

It was a knock that caused them to pull apart, just as he came all over his and Cas’s shirts, jerked off by the friction of their two bodies against each other, Cas still in his ass.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ Dean began to say in a whimper because Cas, because he just came, because the knock, because they’d been caught fucking and that was probably a neighbor and it probably had something to do with the fact that their building manager just died and they were there to witness it.

It was with great difficulty that Cas let go of Dean enough for Dean to demount, peeled off the condom and still hard and slick, and pulled his pants from around his knees back up.

‘What do we do?’ Castiel hissed.

‘Answer the door,’ Dean instructed. ‘I need to go get cleaned up and put my pants back on. Pretend that’s milk on your shirt. Say we were cooking.’

‘ _Milk_?’

‘Just do it!’ Dean hissed, grabbing his pants and underwear and shoes and socks and dashing off into the bedroom.

Cas groaned and went to the door, trying to stand in a way that made the door hide most of his shirt. At least he wasn’t hard anymore, having calmed down in the panic, though he felt unsatisfied and still tender and like he needed to finish himself off later.

And now he was panicking even more because oh shit.

‘Hey, Castiel,’ Kevin Tran grinned at him, thrusting a box forward that Cas gratefully grabbed and held in front of his messed up shirt which he really should have taken off before he and Dean got down to it, but in casual hook ups there was just no time for that. ‘Mind if I freshen up? I’ve been on a plane since six this morning and I just got out of a cab. Ooh, food on the table. Nice. You’re having lunch, huh? Save me some?’

Castiel stood, frozen, terrified by the prophet who had once been terrified of him. Oh, how the tables had turned. What was Kevin doing here? Had Sam sent the hex bags with a delivery boy rather than just on their own? How did Kevin even get the box with the bags on the plane?

‘Oh _fuck_ ,’ Dean hissed, coming out of the bedroom after a quick change, after seeing who was at the door.

‘Nice place, guys,’ Kevin grinned, stepping in past Cas who had stepped to the side to allow him entry into the apartment. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’ he asked, while Cas closed the door, holding the box of hex bags and exchanging a look with Dean containing more guilt than they could fathom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update on my friend doing art for this: she's working on her own projects at the moment, but she'll get to it. Her own projects include an original modern Disney Princess OC though, so at least her own work is pretty cool too.


	22. Domino

Dean whispered on the phone to Sam in the bedroom and Cas stood warily in the kitchen, watching Kevin eat at the table looking like he hadn’t eaten in years. Cas folded his arms, surveying the ravenous beast who they’d gotten into the kitchen and fed as soon as possible, Dean distracting him with food while Cas sneakily cleaned up the rest of the evidence over by the sofa, being the lube and the condom and the condom wrapper, then went to change his shirt.

Dean emerged and took a stand next to Cas, taking hold of his arm and turning him so that they weren’t facing Kevin and he leaned in to quiet murmur, resisting the urge to put his hand on Cas’s lower back.

‘Sam says his flight home’s tomorrow evening, that was the cheapest one,’ Dean informed Cas. ‘He sent him with the hex bags so they wouldn’t get lost or confiscated.’

‘Aren’t there still people hunting him?’ Castiel asked worriedly.

‘Yeah, but he’s got a bag on him that’ll hide him at least for a few days before it wears out. So basically all we have to do is tell him that … I asked you to come on this case because the guy I was going to do it with dropped out, and I didn’t tell Sam because … that’s your call.’

‘Because I asked you not to,’ Castiel decided. ‘I was afraid that Sam might think I wasn’t experienced enough for this case despite you thinking the opposite and I didn’t want to cause a disagreement between the two of you.’

‘Great, yeah,’ Dean nodded confidently. ‘We’ll say that.’

‘And one more thing.’

‘Shoot.’

‘Does he always eat like that or is there something wrong with him?’

Dean glanced back over his shoulder at Kevin wolfing down the second of the two turkey sandwiches Dean had given him. He turned back to Cas with a sigh.

‘Yeah, he always eats like that.’

‘He looks like you with pie.’

‘I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.’

Dean turned around and clapped his hands together, walking evenly towards Kevin and Cas recognized a side of Dean he hadn’t seen in a while, the more in-control and very definitive version he always was when dealing with other people.

‘So, Kevin,’ he said confidently, taking a seat across from him. ‘I bet you’re wondering what Cas is doing here instead of some hunter named J.’

‘You guys are dating?’ Kevin assumed.

‘What? No, no, of course not,’ Dean said loudly. ‘Or at least not when we’re not pretending to. No, see, J backed out last minute so I asked Cas and he didn’t want me to tell Sam in case Sam thought he wasn’t good enough at this hunting thing yet for this. Didn’t want to cause conflicts.’

‘I understand that,’ Kevin said, nodding, his mouth full with his final bite. He swallowed hugely and took a gulp of Pepsi. ‘It’s annoying when you and Sam fight. Soo … were you guys talking about me just now?’

‘What? No, no,’ Dean assured. ‘Well, a little. Cas was just worried you were starving to death or something. Sure you don’t want to eat the plate there?’

‘I considered it,’ said Kevin, leaning back in in his chair, satisfied and full. ‘So do you guys sleep in the same bed here?’

‘Sofa bed,’ Dean said, pointing. ‘You can take that tonight. I’ll take the bedroom and Cas can sleep in the tub.’

‘ _You_ can sleep in the tub,’ Castiel said pointedly, walking forward and standing above Dean. ‘You told me I wouldn’t be sleeping in weird places any more, remember? Or whatever your exact phrasing was. It was a month ago so I don’t remember.’

‘You think you can just boss me around?’ Dean asked, looking up at Cas with his arms folded.

Cas knew that an affected response. Without Kevin around, Dean probably would have just meekly replied ‘ _I_ can sleep in the tub.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel said firmly, ‘or I can tell Sam you asked me here, refused to tell him, and cause even more of a conflict than there would have been originally.’

‘Okay, fine, I’ll take the tub.’

Dean gave Cas a look that showed he knew Cas was just playing along, and so Cas sat down.

‘You seemed less intimidating than you used to be when you answered the door,’ Kevin said with a frown in Cas’s direction. ‘And now you seem scary again. No fair.’

‘I’ve been told I’m intimidating,’ Castiel said, recalling Dean calling him that a few times.

‘But he’s harmless,’ Dean promised. ‘Wouldn’t hurt a fly. Hurts _me_ a lot, but besides _that_ he wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

‘What’d he do to you?’ Kevin asked with a smirk.

‘Let’s see,’ Dean said thoughtfully. ‘He’s insulted me, laughed at me, made false claims about me, shoved me, flicked me, jabbed me, splashed water on me and sprayed fake snow down my pants.’

‘He sprayed fake snow _on_ my pants!’ Castiel defended himself. ‘And he _poured_ water on me. And he tried to shove a playing card up my _nose_. And once he hit me on the head with an empty soda bottle.’

‘Is that how you got the bruise?’

‘No, a witch threw me into a doorframe.’

‘… Oh. Sorry.’

‘It’s fine. I was knocked unconscious so if it hurt a great deal, I don’t remember.’

‘Didn’t you say you accidentally flashed a hallway full of people?’ Dean asked suddenly, having a fleeting memory of something like that being said.

‘You _what_?’ Kevin asked, his eyebrows shooting up like sky rockets.

‘I was wearing a robe with nothing underneath it because it was a warm night,’ Cas lied about his reason, ‘and I was thrown back several times, enough times for others to finally emerge before I was finally thrown against the doorframe hard enough to be knocked out. Before I was, my robe flew up and that’s all there is to it.’

‘Why did it take so long for you to get knocked out?’ Dean asked, frowning.

‘I didn’t hit my head as quickly as you did,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘The witch was multi-tasking by that point, keeping the others pinned to the walls with their heads turned away from her so they couldn’t see her. I’m not sure what she did to them after I was knocked out but she must have thrown them because they had some minor injuries too.’

‘And you guys are going to be the only apartment in the whole building not protected from the witch? That’s … that’s terrifying and I’m suddenly glad my plane leaves tomorrow.’

‘You can’t protect yourself against something you want to attack you so you can kill it,’ Dean shrugged, as if it didn’t bother him. ‘Years of this and you’re just … not afraid of anything anymore.’

‘Except spiders and rising water levels,’ Castiel muttered.

‘You can shut up, alright?’ Dean said, looking at Cas in a defensive manor. ‘I’m not afraid of _anything_.’

‘Right … _except_ spiders and rising water levels. Oh, and cuts from razors.’

‘And Sam says you’re afraid of flying,’ Kevin added.

‘Alright, why don’t you two just sit here with your little “make fun of Dean” meeting if you’re having so much fun with it?’ Dean demanded, pushing out from the table and getting up. ‘ _I’m_ going to go down to the car and bring up some stuff we’ll need to kill that witch. You two enjoy yourselves.’

‘While you’re at the car, could you get _into_ the car, drive away and go rent the next season of Friends?’ Castiel asked, and when Dean raised his eyebrows in the classic pissed-Dean way, Castiel smiled innocently and asked, ‘please?’

‘Fine. Anything else?’

‘A fluffy pillow and a frilly blanket for your special guest?’ Kevin asked hopefully.

‘Watch yourself or you’ll be the one sleeping in the tub.’

‘Okay, sorry. Just the pillow? Okay, maybe not. Nothing for me, thanks anyway.’

Rolling his eyes, Dean left, locking the door behind him.

The building was quiet as Dean moved through it. More quiet than it usually was. That was to be expected, after all. Dean kept his eyes peeled for the witch who had wandered the building so freely before, but there was no sign of her. Perhaps she was in the walls, or she was hiding out wherever she came from when she wasn’t lurking in the walls like she hadn’t been the night they’d searched them. That damn witch must have been insane, the messages, the black goo … she must have been old, too, in relation to the goo. Decaying and kept alive only by her powers. Meaning she must be easier to kill. The witch killing spell would work, and they always kept the ingredients to that in the trunk of the car. He’d bring those up. They’d have it ready, and pour it into hollowed out bullets to shoot.  

So. On to the other issue at hand.

No, not Kevin. That had been dealt with, Kevin was cool, Sam on the phone had his reasons and they weren’t because somehow he knew Cas was there and sent Kevin to rat him out. Sam’s reasons were smart. Who the hell would approve a box of bags full of dried up shit like bones being sent somewhere if it wasn’t accompanied by a person to explain it was all artificial and for an old family post-Christmas tradition?

But the other issue. Related to Kevin a little.

The issue of the fact that Cas had literally been inside Dean’s ass when showed up.

They’d been over this. People hooked up sometimes. It was cool. It didn’t mean anything … to Cas, at least. He was over the sudden rush of guilt from the first time – the tears, the sobs, which came from him thinking he’d hurt their friendship and himself in the process – they were fine, they went back to normal almost instantly the next day after the first time, and went back to normal pretty much as soon as he climbed off of Cas before Cas answered the door, but the issue was this: it was supposed to be a one time thing.

One time, one time to relieve the tension, and because it was Christmas Eve. It was the day after Christmas Day now, not quite as special an occasion as Christmas Eve, but it could still be justified by the holiday season.

And … maybe he could justify it with … there being a lot of tension. Yeah, that was it.

And of course they’d have to do it _again_ because he must have given Cas a case of blue balls earlier which wasn’t cool. Or he’d have to do _something_ about it.

And maybe they could do it another two times because the roll of condoms he brought had four on it and they’d only used two, and he supposed if he’d brought them and used them he might as well use _all_ of them, right?

Oh, shit. Kevin was going to be sleeping on that sofa. He’d have to move his bag out from under it and into his closet.

Which would make it easier to access what was in it, too.

But not tonight, surely. He couldn’t use any of them _tonight_. With Kevin in the next room.

Sure, he was going to be sharing a bed with Cas – he was _not_ sleeping in that fucking tub – but that didn’t mean they had to fuck. It meant they were friends who were comfortable enough to share a bed, more comfortable than the first time top to tailing it, and less naked than the last time after they’d fucked.

But come on. He had to at least, at _least_ give Cas a hand job today. Because of earlier. That was the _very very least_ he could do. Or a blow job, that would work too. And it would case less mess; he could swallow, and therefore the cleanup of the spray wouldn’t be needed as much.

Aaaand now he had to calm down to drive before he sprouted fucking wings and flew back upstairs, smashed in through the glass wall and jumped face-to-crotch on Cas as soon as he landed and jammed Cas’s dick in his mouth, a dick which thankfully looked far less intimidating today, but no less fucking glorious.

He suddenly realized he was basically bending to Cas’s every will already, despite having Kevin around. Jeez. He’d need to get some willpower before going back to Sam. Maybe the distance between him and Cas would help him find the willpower next time he saw him after the case was over.

Kevin didn’t know how he usually acted around Cas, so he was safe here. And Kevin wouldn’t be telling Sam Cas was here, so there was no chance of Kevin managing to relay how he was acting around Cas at all.

Their plan was perfect and fool proof.

And so what if they had a third wheel when watching Friends later? It’s not like that would reveal anything, and it’s not like they could take Kevin out for a magical tour around the area or over to LA or something. It was Christmas, a lot of places were booked, or closed. And someone had just died in their building, they needed to look respectful for a while and stay inside, not act like they were over it and didn’t care, because they did care. Harri had been nice and she had been their friend in the short time they’d known her. But they couldn’t afford attachments, it was just disappointing that they hadn’t managed to stop the attacker and end this case.

Although Dean didn’t want it to end. He wanted to stay living like this with Cas forever, and forget about what else was going on that they had to deal with, but he knew if he ignored all of it then it would only get worse, the consequences more dire.

When Dean got what Cas had asked for and grabbed all of the ingredients for the spell and some bullet and guns, he took them all upstairs and when he got there he found Cas and Kevin on the sofa, playing cards. The sight of it made him smile, seeing as how Kevin had been so wary of Cas when they first met, and still wary as time went on, preferring to deal only with Sam and Dean.

‘Who’s winning?’

‘Me,’ said Cas.

‘Must be playing Spit.’

‘He’s so _fast_ ,’ Kevin hissed in frustration.

Dean went over to sit on the arm beside Cas, resting his elbow on Cas’s shoulder, and he watched the game play out. Cas did seem to be taking most of the cards, but then the tables turned and Cas wasn’t doing so well and Kevin ended up winning.

‘I don’t like this game anymore,’ Castiel decided, getting to his feet. ‘I’m going to go read. This isn’t fair, he’s never even played before.’

‘Now you know how I feel every time you beat me!’ Dean called after him, as he stalked off into the bedroom.

‘Play me?’ Kevin asked, grinning wickedly.

‘Deal,’ Dean agreed, then moved on. ‘So, how’s the mountain of dicks?’

‘Crowley’s … quiet. He likes to make demands and sing a lot of weird songs. It’s weird that British people lose their accents when the sing.’

‘Oh no, I meant Sam.’

Dean raised his eyebrows playfully, making Kevin laugh.

‘Sam’s good too. He’s looking up lore on angels and on heaven. We both are. We’re not finding anything. And I’ve been trying to translate some more in case Crowley was lying about it, but I can’t do it.’

‘Don’t pressure yourself,’ said Dean, as their game began, and he noticed Cas out on the balcony seemingly having gone there from the bedroom. ‘I feel like Crowley’s telling the truth for once. It makes sense for the spell. Why eject the angels if you’ll want to get them back up there again? It’s like having a counter spell to shutting the gates of hell. And there isn’t one of those, so why for this?’

‘Yeah, that’s what Sam said. And that’s what I think. Does Castiel know about any of this?’

‘Nothing,’ said Dean, shaking his head as he took the smaller pile of cards having gotten rid of his set out cards first. ‘I don’t wanna put that on him, y’know? He’s a good guy. He’s got enough going on an I don’t want to overwhelm him with that too. We just deal with the case here first, then … whatever else that comes up. He thinks some pretty bad stuff’ll happen if the angels don’t get back upstairs so we’re gonna have to deal with that when it happens.’

‘Stuff like …?’

‘Angels rallying to a leader,’ Dean shrugged. ‘And depending on the leader … things could go from bad to worse.’

‘And how do we stop all of that?’

‘A lot of stabbing.’

‘Pleasant.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘I don’t want to talk about this,’ Kevin decided. ‘I don’t want to get involved. Have you ever seen The Rocky Horror Picture Show?’

‘What?’

‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Have you seen it?’

‘Yeah, maybe once or twice. Why?’

‘I’ve seen it before,’ Kevin explained, ‘and I had an hour layover stuck in an airport this morning, and there was this store selling movies and music and I saw it. So I bought it. It’s in the backpack I brought with me and I was thinking … I could watch it. I haven’t seen a movie in _so long_. And if either of you want to join me that’d be okay.’

Dean paused the game before setting out more cards to make new piles and looked at Kevin with a frown.

‘You haven’t been having the best time, have you?’ he asked.

‘Stuck in the bunker with the king of hell in the dungeon, reading books and books of stuff that’s not helping. Sam’s great and all, but yeah, it hasn’t been the best.’

‘Then sure, we can watch it,’ Dean nodded. ‘Get some popcorn. Some other snacks. There’s not much else to do around here.’

‘You have to be kidding. LA is like a half hour away.’

‘Yeah, we’ve been,’ Dean nodded, continuing the game and putting cards down. ‘Checked out some places. Done as much as we can do. We’ve done pretty much everything besides Universal Studios and Disney Land, just for something to do. But these days we mostly stay in, go out for lunch, go food shopping … we’ve been watching Friends. I thought I’d show it to Cas, equip him with some quality TV while I can.’

‘Yeah, he mentioned that,’ Kevin confirmed. ‘And I don’t suppose you guys can do much around the holidays. And it might be disrespectful to look too … whatever, since someone just died in your hallway right in front of you.’

‘Exactly my way of thinking,’ Dean agreed. ‘But it’s not all bad, staying in. We entertain ourselves. TV, music, Cas reads, we mess around with cards and that table behind you. We decorate, we attack each other with fake snow. It’s not bad here. Something that’s easy to get used to.’

‘It’s a big change,’ Kevin commented. ‘Driving around, hunting things, killing things … to living it up in a place like this getting to do whatever you want, being close to the city … imagine if you could stay here. That’d be awesome.’

‘But we can’t.’

‘No. I guess not.’

‘Hey, Kevin?’

‘Yeah?’

Dean moved two last cards, and then he was out.

‘I win.’

‘Damn it.’

‘Can you entertain yourself for a while?’ Dean asked. ‘I have a bag I need to move, and I want to wash those dishes.’

‘I’ll clean up the cards and maybe read too. I bought a book at the airport.’

 ‘Okay, great. If you want you can join me and Cas wasting our time and watching Friends. We can watch your thing tonight.’

Kevin nodded eagerly, Dean smiled and nodded, grabbed his bag from under the sofa, then disappeared into the bedroom while Kevin cleaned up the cards.

After he put the bag in the closet, Dean crept outside as silently as he could through the doors in the bedroom and approached Cas slowly and carefully. Cas was reading obliviously, so he jumped when Dean crept up behind him and slapped his hands down on his shoulders.

‘Fuck you,’ said Cas. ‘I was reading. That’s not fair. You suck.’

‘If you like,’ Dean grinned at him, his grin as saucy as he could muster it, sitting down next to him and fixing him with a gaze. ‘Because of earlier. Seems like you went unsatisfied.’

‘A little,’ Castiel replied, closing his book and looking at Dean curiously.

‘I have a proposition,’ Dean announced.

‘Go on.’

‘Two more times. Get rid of those other two condoms. And I blow you to make up for earlier and the interruption.’

Castiel considered it. He’d never had anyone suck his dick, and he’d thought many times about Dean doing it … so to have him actually do it …

‘Deal,’ Castiel decided, putting his hand out. ‘Proposition accepted.’

‘Excellent,’ Dean grinned, shaking his hand firmly. ‘I’m going to do dishes now. Oh, and later we’re watching a movie with Kevin. He brought it with him. You’ll like it. It’s a musical, actually.’

‘How do you know I’ll like it?’

‘Because I know you,’ Dean replied simply. ‘Now. Dishes. See you.’

‘Yeah, bye,’ Castiel replied, as Dean nudged his cheek with his finger before he left.

Cas watched Dean retreat and almost did a joyful back flip when he thought about the fact that they got to hook up two more times. The other night it had been so good he thought his head was going to fall off, and it had farther confirmed to himself that he was, very much, one hundred percent gay. It had never been like _that_ with that stupid reaper.

He got back to his reading with a smirk on his face, and went inside when he’d finished the chapter. He saw Kevin on the sofa, reading with his feet up on one arm and his back against the other, already at home and swaggering about as if he owned the place, and Dean was going dishes as he said he would be. The first thing Cas did was go to the fridge and grab one of the sandwiches Dean had made and put in there, because he was hungry and had kind of not gotten to eat most of his lunch due to the detour and then the arrival of Kevin.

‘Hey, can you eat that quickly and then do the laundry that’s in the basket?’ Dean asked, as Castiel leaned against the counter next to him, watching him wash all of the dishes they’d used that day. ‘We seem to be getting through clothes pretty quickly this week with the snow and the, uh, milk. And now this.’

He gestured the gravy stain still on his pants.

Castiel rolled his eyes and put his sandwich down, grabbed a knife and cut it in half so it was easier to carry in one hand, then he slipped the knife into the sink and laughed when Dean said ‘gee, thanks.’ He picked up half of his sandwich and went into the bedroom to grab the basket, got the detergent, put it in the basket on top of the clothes and then carried it to the door.

‘Don’t eat the rest of my sandwich,’ he instructed.

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Dean grinned innocently. ‘And if Kevin tries to get his paws on it I’ll fight him off with a pointy stick.’

Castiel rolled his eyes. Kevin laughed, but stayed focused on his book. Castiel left, basket in one hand and sandwich in the other, and by the time he’d reached the elevator he’d finished it.

The laundry room was empty when Cas entered and placed the basket on top of one of the machines. And began loading things into the machine. Right on top of the pile were his and Dean’s shirts from earlier, flecked with dried come that made Cas smirk.

And then rapidly shove them into the machine because he heard footsteps behind him and didn’t want to display those shirts to the world, although it was tempting to boast _look at me, look what I’ve been doing_.

Piper had entered the laundry room, so they made small talk about the incident that had happened. Apparently Piper remembered nothing but being locked inside and when she finally got out she was held against the wall and forced to look in one direction, and then her head was banged against the wall and she was knocked out for several minutes. So Cas told her what he and Dean had told the police, about a group of people attacking, and that was that.

They didn’t mention Harri, but Piper mentioned that apparently the second in command of the building managers was now the first, and he lived on the third floor, his name was Bob and he had a nose ring. He was notorious for his Halloween parties and was often to be seen playing chess in the garden, and now that Piper mentioned him Cas was almost certain he’d seen someone with a nose ring playing chess outside; short, muscular and bald. He seemed nice. Hopefully he wouldn’t meet the same end as the last building manager.

Castiel left when he was finished with the washing machine, and he returned to the apartment to find Dean and Kevin arguing loudly and heatedly.

Oh, shit.

About whether or not Ross Geller was a shitty person.

Oh, okay then.

‘Come on Cas, back me up here,’ Dean said angrily. ‘Ross is a shitty person. He refuses to let anyone’s opinion be heard but his own, he always has to be right, he degrades people for not being as smart as him, he’s whiny, he barely even mentions his son and in the beginning he doesn’t seem so accepting of his wife being a lesbian.’

‘But that’s just _Ross_ ,’ Kevin insisted.

‘I’ve seen four seasons,’ said Cas, walking over to where the rest of his sandwich sat where he’d left it out, ‘I can’t be an accurate judge of character. Did you bite this?’

Castiel lifted up his sandwich which had a large bite taken out of it, and he looked accusingly at Dean.

‘Of course not,’ Dean scoffed. ‘That was Kevin.’

‘No it wasn’t!’ Kevin protested.

‘Ross is not a shitty person,’ Castiel decided, walking over to sit beside Kevin, across from Dean who was standing in front of the TV with his arms folded.

‘Yes he _is_ ,’ Dean groaned. ‘Damn it, you always take his side!’

‘… I literally met him properly today. Before now the only contact we’ve made was fleeting and he fainted every time he saw me.’

‘Oh, I see how it is. Coming at me with _logic_.’

‘You _bit_ my _sandwich. MY. SANDWICH_.’

‘You sound like Ross in that episode where his boss ate his sandwich,’ Kevin said with amusement.

‘I haven’t see that one.’

‘Season five,’ said Kevin.

‘An episode that shows off Ross’s unwarranted rage,’ Dean said boldly. ‘Proving my point further. He’s a shitty person.’

‘You’re a shitty person,’ Cas retaliated. ‘You bit my sandwich.’

‘I also made it. Am I shitty person now?’

‘… No. Never mind. Bite my sandwich all you want.’

Dean took a step forward with his hand out stretched. Castiel held his sandwich close to his chest. Dean frowned at him.

‘You told me to bite it all I want.’

‘I didn’t expect you to actually do it. Back off and get one yourself.’

Castiel began to eat the second half of his sandwich quickly while Dean pretended to sulk, and Kevin started laughing, his laugh then becoming vaguely manic causing Dean and Cas some concern, but Kevin eventually choked out ‘you guys are like an old married couple’ and his laughter began to die down.

‘Well, we’re pretending to have been together for five years,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Maybe that’s rubbing off on us.’

‘I don’t want _any part_ of you rubbing off on me,’ Castiel said to Dean in disgust, but when Kevin started laughing again with his eyes closed and his thrown back, Castiel _winked._

Dean almost fucking fainted ala Kevin when he first met Cas.

Cas. _Winking_.

Dead, dead, dead. Over two hundred and two thousand times dead.

‘So are you going to put on Friends or not? There’s nothing else to do.’

‘Chill, Cas. You’re testy today.’

‘You _bit_ –’

‘Dude. If you want that one bite of your sandwich back so badly, wait until tomorrow morning. You can have it then.’

‘You’re disgusting.’

‘Still want your sandwich?’

‘I want to move out.’

‘When the witch is dead – Kevin, what time did you have in mind for Rocky Horror?’

‘Like … seven? I was thinking of going to bed around nine. Long day. Up since five to catch my flight at six.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ Dean nodded. ‘We can just hang in the bedroom so we won’t disturb you, right Cas?’

‘Sure,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I can be in close proximity to you if I must.’

‘Wow. You’re a dick.’

Castiel smiled, looking like the opposite of a dick.

Not like, like a vagina or something, but the opposite of a person being a dick.

‘Yikes. You guys must hate each other.’

‘On the contrary, I’ve grown rather fond of Dean,’ Castiel commented lightly, far from the truth. ‘He’s not so bad to be around.’

‘“Rather fond,”’ Dean scoffed. ‘Thanks. Lo– Feel the same way about you.’

 _Love you too_ , had been on the tip of his tongue. Fuck.

‘Much better,’ Kevin grinned. ‘I’m glad you proved me wrong. So … Friends? It’d be nice to watch it without Sam and me turning pages and reading up on stuff during it.’

‘Yeah, hang on, I’ll put it on,’ Dean nodded, going to retrieve the DVD from where he’d left it. ‘And budge up, you two. You’re taking up the whole damn seat.’

‘Well, it’s only built for two,’ Castiel reminded him.

‘Three can fit if you two move.’

‘I don’t mind getting close up and personal,’ Kevin grinned. ‘I’ll take the middle. So you guys don’t kill each other.’

‘Oh, good. Get me away from the sandwich stealer.’

‘Shut up, Cas,’ said Dean.

Once the DVD was on, they settled in together, all close, to watch. It was fun to watch with Kevin; he wasn’t bad to have around and the general freak out that his appearance had caused was long since gone, and it was easy with him around, and he’d be leaving tomorrow sworn to secrecy and he’d brought the hex bags which would be very useful for this case.

They snacked every so often as they watched on a binge, to keep themselves satisfied, because if they were going to watch Rocky Horror at seven of course they’d be getting takeout to accompany their main feature of the day, which soon turned into evening, Friends taking them there with a quick pause in it for Dean and Kevin to reprieve their argument and then call Sam to get his opinion, and he sided with Dean on it. Sam also asked what “J” thought and Dean said he’d locked himself in the bedroom, not too happy with Kevin’s arrival.

‘He’s been in there since Kevin arrived,’ Dean lied. ‘Damn stole my bed. I’m gonna have to sleep in the car because I gave Kevin the sofa bed.’

‘Is sleeping in the car so often the reason your legs aren’t straight?’ Kevin asked in the background.

‘I’ve never thought of that,’ Sam added after hearing him. ‘Is it?’

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ Dean said decidedly. ‘I have to kill Kevin. And the call tomorrow is so we can arrange _your_ death.’

‘It probably is, you know,’ said Cas, as soon as Dean had hung up and put his phone away.

‘You’re dead too. I’ll climb out of that tub, creep into the bedroom and murder you.’

‘Good luck with that,’ Castiel offered, ‘now press play and pass the chips.’

When ten to seven came, they ordered food, and started Rocky Horror as soon as it came. Kevin ordered enough for two, and ate enough for two, at the speed of someone eating enough for one. Cas gave Dean a wary look and Dean just shrugged, while Kevin remained oblivious.

It seemed Kevin had played down how much he liked this particular feature, because when the times came for his two favorite songs from it, he belted out the lyrics to “Toucha Toucha Touch Me” and “Sweet Transvestite” without flaw, and he wasn’t so quiet on the other songs either. Kevin was almost as entertaining as what was on screen itself, and when it ended he was still in high spirits despite looking tired.

‘Can I use your shower?’ Kevin asked.

‘The room off the bedroom,’ Dean answered. ‘Extra towels on the rack. Pick one. If you want, Cas’ll set up your bed for you. He’s good at that.’

‘Great, thanks!’ Kevin grinned, got up and half-skipped to the bedroom, taking his backpack with him as he went.

‘He’s in a good mood,’ Dean commented.

‘It’s not unusual,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘He’s getting a well-deserved break from constant work. Who wouldn’t be in a good mood?’

‘Yeah, true. I’m gonna deal with the trash. You can do the bed.’

Castiel nodded and they went about their respective tasks, Dean taking their wrappers and food dishes to the trash can and Cas moving the table and pulling out the bed.

‘We can keep watching on my laptop,’ Dean suggested as they did so. ‘It’s got a slot to watch DVDs on.’

‘I suppose that would be a nice thing for you, before you go off to sleep in the tub,’ Castiel mused.

‘You know I’m not actually sleeping in the tub, right?’

‘I guessed as much. Can you spray your feet with deodorant this time, though? Last time they smelled so bad I thought I was going to suffocate in my sleep.’

‘First of all, I know you’re kidding, so don’t pull that shit with me. Second of all, I’m sleeping in that damn bed _with_ you whether you like it or not except not the “whether you like it or not” part. Can I?’

‘Sure,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It wasn’t so bad the other night. Just don’t snore so loudly this time.’

‘I don’t _snore_.’

‘How would you know? You sleep through it.’

‘Because I know. And I know when you’re saying something to piss me off. Now finish making that bed while I grab us some snacks to take into the bedroom with us.’

Castiel left, and Dean raided the cupboards and the fridge, adding two sandwiches to the mix of casual snacking food, then he grabbed the Friends DVDs and put it next to the food. He placed all of that on the baking tray for the oven, which was clean and was sufficient to hold it all without Dean having to bunch it all up in his arms, and he took a step back to admire his own innovative skill.

‘Cas, tell me I’m a genius,’ Dean requested as Castiel came back with the rest of the things for the bed.

‘No.’

‘Rude. You don’t even know what I did.’

‘I don’t need to. It’s probably something basic like putting all of the snacks in one bag or on one plate or on a tray of some sort. Is it?

‘… No?’

‘Would you like me to carry your laptop while you carry your bag, plate, or tray?’

‘Yes please.’

‘I will when Kevin comes back out here. Close the curtains.’

‘Oh yeah, those. Almost forgot about them. Thanks.’

‘And make sure the door is locked.

‘Gotcha.’

Once everything with set for Kevin, Dean and Cas moved to the table to sit across from each other and casually discuss the Friends episodes they’d watched. They’d gotten to the one Kevin had mentioned earlier, with the sandwich, and laughed about it a little and Cas, feeling in a softer, gentler mood now, apologized to Dean for his overreaction.

‘That’s okay,’ Dean aid with a small, adorable laugh. ‘I know you only do it because it’ll piss me off and then make me laugh later.’

‘I’m glad we understand each other,’ Castiel smiled, warm, like the warmest hug on a cold night with fuzzy socks and fuzzy blankets and hot chocolate.

Fuck, those eyes. This fucking eyes, that face, angelic despite being graceless, always and forever the softest and kindest face in all of history.

‘You have really pretty eyes, Cas,’ Dean said quietly.

The lighting was yellowy and dull because no light helped aid it from the outside. The curtains were dark like the outside sky, and it was quiet. So quiet, they could almost hear the tiny ticking of Dean’s watch, the only background noise there was.

‘Not this again,’ Castiel said with the smallest of laughs, looking away.

‘No, I’m serious,’ Dean insisted, reaching out to grab Cas’s hand which was resting on the table top in front of him. ‘I’m not just listing off things this time. I’m really serious.’

Castiel had looked back up as Dean spoke, and now he was forced to look away again with the hint of a blush and a new kind of smile.

‘So do you,’ he replied quietly. ‘Dean, you’re so … _right_ about Ross! After that sandwich episode, I can’t believe I ever thought he seemed … relatively normal.’

‘I know, right?’ Dean exclaimed, turning the fact that he was holding Cas’s hand into a joyous, over energetic thing, grabbing his hand with both hands and vibrating it violently. ‘The dude’s insane. Wait until we get into the later seasons.’

‘You guys are still on that?’ Kevin asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Oh, Kevin. Didn’t even see you there,’ Dean lied, although he’d spied him emerging around the time Cas had apparently heard his sticky footsteps; the sucky things on the bottom of the slippers he’d brought with him squelching every time he stepped up from the floor made his approach obvious. ‘Good shower?’

‘Water pressure, check. Heat, check. Except at the start. It’s freezing.’

‘Oh, damn,’ Dean muttered. ‘I forgot to mention that. Oh well, too late now.’

‘So … I’m going to bed.’

‘We’re gone,’ Dean promised, he and Cas getting to their feet. ‘Sleep well. Watch out for the springs on the left, they’re a little more present than the ones on the right.’

‘I will.’

‘And if you find crumbs on the bed it’s because Dean’s a sleep eater,’ Castiel added.

‘Am not,’ Dean muttered, elbowing Cas.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ Kevin grinned. ‘Night, guys.’

‘Night,’ they offered around the same time.

Dean grabbed the tray, Cas grabbed the laptop and the two of them vanished off into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, placing their objects on the bed.

‘Now,’ Dean announced, ‘don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not gonna be wearing underwear. Or do take it the wrong way. Take it whatever way you want.’

‘Same with me,’ Castiel nodded, the two of them venturing to the closet. ‘But I’ll be wearing a shirt. It’s been colder lately and sleeping unclothed the other night made me remember exactly why I’ve been sleeping with a shirt on.’

‘Damn, me too,’ Dean agreed, ironically removing his shirt as he said it, having already peeled off his outer layer of flannel. He pulled on another shirt almost instantly, an old, worn one with AC/DC written on it. He didn’t often wear shirts with patterns in his waking hours, but did frequently to sleep.

Cas chose a v-neck, because he’d seen Dean staring at what was exposed in it whenever he wore one. And then they started on the lower half, kicking off shoes and tugging off socks, dropping jeans, then;

‘Don’t look. Being friends who casually hook up means seeing each other naked when aroused _only_ so you’re not disappointed when you see it all boring and normal.’

‘Or are you just trying to hide the fact that you have freckles on your ass and you think I didn’t notice before?’

That resulted in Dean throwing his underwear at Cas’s face, so Cas couldn’t see anyway because by the time he looked back up at Dean, Dean was already pulling on his sweats.

‘That wasn’t a punishment. I’ve had my tongue in your ass. Having your underwear on my face is not a big deal.’

‘I was pretending it was a book,’ Dean commented. ‘Hoping it would knock you out and shut you up.’

‘Well, you’ve changed your tone.’

‘So have you.’

‘Whatever. Which side of the bed are you sleeping on?’

‘Same as last time, closest to the doors that lead to the balcony.’

‘Fine. Could you lock those?’

‘On it.’

Castiel got into bed carefully so as not to displace the tray he pulled up towards himself, along with the laptop. Dean locked the door and closed the curtains, briefly checked himself out in the mirror and ran a hand through his hair, then got under the covers next to Cas. He budged up closer to him and lifted the tray, so he could rest it on both of their laps, and his laptop just behind it. Dean opened his laptop.

‘I’m beginning to distrust that thing,’ Castiel commented. ‘Every time I use it lately ads for porn pop up when I’m not expecting them to.’

‘Yeah, it does that, even if you delete the history.’

‘Even if you delete the what now?’

‘The history. It keeps track of all the sites you visit. Like the first time you watched porn on here and told me about it later, I already knew because I saw the history.’

‘… Oh.’

‘But it’s cool, man. I liked the thought of you watching that. Of what you were _doing_ while watching it. Speculating about it because you never specified exactly what you did until that time when we were talking about sex and I mentioned lube and you said you had some then ended up telling me.’

‘Pervert,’ Castiel said mildly.

‘Tell me you haven’t thought about me that way.’

‘It’s not nice to lie to your friends. So therefore I’m not going to.’

‘And there we have it. So take off your judgmental hat and accept that you’re just like me.’

‘Put in the DVD,’ said Cas, picking up one of the sandwiches, the one closest to Dean, and biting into it. ‘We can talk about this another time.’

He put down the sandwich he’d bitten and picked up the other one, and that’s the one he proceeded to eat.

‘No fair,’ Dean complained. ‘I only took a bite out of yours to piss you off.’

‘And I did the same to get revenge,’ Cas said lightly. ‘Deal with it.’

Dean took a moment to stare at Cas he as casually chewed his sandwich, looking at Dean’s laptop screen, and he couldn’t even remember when the fuck this version of Cas had sprouted or where he’d sprouted from. When they first started out on the journey to this case he’d been terrified of saying literally anything, and now he was sassing Dean’s ass off intentionally like he had back when he first met him and hadn’t cared enough about Dean’s feelings to put on a filter.

Sassing Dean’s ass off, and _fucking_ Dean’s ass off too, come to think of it.

Like how the hell had that happened? Jesus Christ. How did they even get here? He hadn’t even noticed the gradual build up happening. He couldn’t remember the turning point in all of this. He just remembered little moments that gradually became Cas saying ‘are you going to put in the DVD or are you going to keep staring at me all night? Come on, I want to see what happens next.’

Dean couldn’t even figure out how he’d gone from the soft smiling adorable creature in the kitchen to this casually lounging badass next to him. Like Cas was … he was complex. He could go from one mood to the next in a second. And Dean fucking loved it.

‘Alright, calm down, keep your pants on,’ Dean said in defense, doing as he requested. ‘And I’m using that as just the saying. You can take your pants off all you want.’

‘Well, maybe I will.’

‘And maybe I’ll go down under the covers. If you get what I’m implying when I say _go down_.’

‘Put the disc in, Dean.’

‘Yeah, yeah, Whatever you want.’

Dean finished putting in the disc and set it up to play, selected the episode after the one they’d left off on, and he and Cas relaxed back against the headboard and went into watching mode, Dean picking up the sandwich Cas had taken a bite out of and joining Cas in sandwich-consuming as the episode played, and before it was finished they’d finished their very small selection of snacks, put the tray on the floor and settled in more comfortably.

By halfway through episode two, Dean had slouched down into a more comfortable position with his knees up, causing the laptop to have to be moved to Cas’s lap, and by the end of episode two Dean’s knees were down, he was half on his side and he was using Cas’s chest and something to lean the side of his face against. Cas rested his arm around Dean lightly, and nothing was said about it, or about any of the other similar but varying positons Dean got into, subtly by wriggling around or obvious by large, readjusting movements.

By the end of episode three, Dean was bored of continuous watching and needed a break, so without warning he paused the show before the next episode could play, closed his laptop lid, put the laptop on the ground and vanished beneath the covers.

‘Dean, what are you – oh.’

Cas lifted his ass so Dean could slide his sweats down to mid-thigh, and then suddenly he felt Dean’s tongue flick across his dick and it began to stand to attention which each farther lick and stroke. Cas looked at the lump that was Dean moving beneath the covers and figured he did say he owed him after all, so he sat back and enjoyed it.

So Dean was probably way better than Cas was. Cas had just been using tricks from porn videos and from the internet on Dean, but Dean was using tips and tricks he’d learned from experience, and that was probably why Cas could barely move at times when Dean hit a spot that made him feel like he was going into a whole body spasm.

Once he was hard and Dean started really going in for it, Cas flicked back the covers so he could watch Dean and reach out for him, running a hand through his hair and then grabbing on and pulling, and if it bothered Dean he didn’t let it show, only sinking farther down with his mouth like an endless tunnel of warmth and wetness and sensation with a tongue that did magic and lips that were perfectly made for sucking dick.

He used the hand that wasn’t tugging at Dean’s hair to graze over Dean’s hollowed cheeks as he sucked, hard, in and out with pauses for other wickedly sinful things and every time he got to the head he swirled his tongue around as much of it as he could without removing his mouth, and occasionally he would lick up and down the shaft, coming at it from a side angle, before he continued.

What Dean couldn’t fit in his mouth, he used his hand to pleasure, sometimes moving his mouth and his hand in the same direction and sometimes in opposites, every now and then stopping to give Cas’s balls a fondle or two. Cas honestly thought this was going to last forever at the slow rate Dean was going at, until Dean started speeding up and Cas dropped his hand from Dean’s cheek to twist his fingers in the fitted sheet under him and the hand that had been in Dean’s hair flew back to hold the headboard behind him as his back arched every time Dean slowed down again, only to speed back up just as quickly and Cas was really judging God and the angels harshly because that stupid place they’d created wasn’t heaven, _this_ was heaven. Dean was heaven, and if he were to have his own personal heaven Dean would be there, doing this, doing everything, and the walls would be plastered with naked pictures of Dean and close ups of Dean’s face because Dean was hot and pretty and cute all at once, and Dean was swallowing everything when he came, and Dean was next to him, and Dean was grinning and wiping his mouth as Cas tried to catch his breath silently, silent as he’d been throughout the whole thing because Kevin was asleep in the next room and they mustn’t get caught.

‘Well?’ Dean asked eventually, once Cas’s chest had stopped rising and falling.

‘Your … your debt is paid,’ Castiel replied, with some difficulty. ‘You no longer owe me. You’re … done. You’re done. Well done.’

Dean grinned triumphantly.

‘I’ve always been told that that’s one of my better perfected talents,’ Dean informed him. ‘And I’ve been told I have the perfect lips for it. They call them DSLs.’

‘Dick sucking lips,’ Castiel figured.

‘Exactly,’ Dean grinned again, this one a little mischievous. ‘You okay?’

‘I’m trying to figure out if I get up to go clean off whether my knees will support me or not.’

‘I’d give it another minute or two.’

‘Okay. You’re … _good_.’

‘I’m a master,’ Dean boasted. ‘And you’re welcome.’

‘Thank you.’

‘So, two times left and then we’re done.’

‘Yeah,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Then we’re done.’

And then Cas was sad.

He didn’t want to be _done_. Not because he wanted to have a lot a lot a lot of sex with Dean (though he did) but because … he just wanted _Dean_. And this was something they’d be doing if he _had_ Dean. Doing it an unlimited number of times. Yet he still couldn’t inflict that on him.

Castiel slid his legs off the bed and stood up, a little weak in the knees since he hadn’t quite recovered, and held his sweats around his thighs as he disappeared into the bathroom to clean himself up, and also to ready himself for bed because he was sure that must’ve taken a least a half hour, maybe more, and they’d been watching Friends for about an hour and a half too.

Dean was laying, watching the door for his emergence, when Cas went back into the bedroom with his pants up now.

‘It’s a little after eleven,’ Dean told him, without him needing to ask. ‘So we should …’

‘Yeah,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I’ll get the light.’

‘I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff. Y’know, the usual.’

Castiel nodded, flicking the light off before he climbed into bed. It was dark but for the light coming out under the bathroom door, which was just a crack, and then it was pitch black when Dean came out and got into bed, so Cas rolled over to face him instead of the door, his eyes beginning to adjust and make out Dean’s general shape, then his features, then he could see him.

‘So, good day,’ Dean commented. ‘Weird, but good.’

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied. ‘It had … an unexpected twist. Although, not unwelcome. I like Kevin.’

‘He’s a good kid,’ Dean agreed. ‘Man, when all this is over … I hope he’ll get out. I hope he’ll get to go to college or whatever his plans were.  Like Sam with Stanford but … he never has to get back into this.’

‘That would be good for him,’ Castiel agreed. ‘I wish one day … that that could be the case for everyone. That one day the domino effect caused by … well, everything leading back as far as … the deal made ten years before … the fire … in Sam’s nursery, will come to an end.’

‘It is like a domino effect, isn’t it?’ Dean mused. ‘Deal causes demon. Demon causes thing with Sam getting stabbed. I sell my soul, go to hell, break the seal, meet you after … the one good thing in all of this mess. Then more seals, apocalypse, civil war in heaven, purgatory door spell thing, Leviathans, tablet discovery, literal purgatory, tablet drama and closing those hell gates, Metatron, more tablet drama, stupid spell, angels falling … now we’re here. And we don’t have it so bad right now but the outside world is just a mess.’

‘But it’s a mess we can clean up, because we always do,’ Castiel said encouragingly. ‘And … when we do, maybe it will stop.’

‘Or maybe something else will happen like we’ll be invaded by witches or vampires or that thing from The Exorcist.’

‘And we will stop that, too.’

‘And then trees will come to life and try to kill everyone for not appreciating the fact that they supply oxygen.’

‘And we’ll find a spell to deaden them again back into the state they’re in now.’

‘And then dolphins will grow legs, come on land and be pissed at us for polluting the water.’

‘So we’ll make a deal with the dolphins and leave the water alone, and if they refuse to go back we’ll cut off their legs and throw them back in.’

‘And then –’

Castiel couldn’t figure out how to make Dean stopped. So he kissed him, and that seemed to work and leave Cas’s heart pounding.

‘Go to sleep, Dean,’ Castiel ordered.

‘Fine,’ Dean muttered. ‘Night, Cas.’

‘Goodnight.’

Dean turned over. Castiel closed his eyes and began trying to get to sleep, which was difficult with his mind and heart racing.

A moment later, Cas felt Dean reach back and grab onto Cas’s hand, pulling it forward, and Dean began to scoot back, closer to Cas, so far until Dean’s back was against Cas’s chest. Cas figured Dean was already asleep and was doing it unconsciously, but he was just grateful he got to hold Dean, even if it was just for tonight, so he closed his eyes and tightened his arms around Dean and pressed his face into Dean’s back, hoping the night would never come to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to let anyone following this know, I don't know how often I'll be updating during the first week of November because it's my brother's first wedding anniversary and my family and his family have a few days of things planned from Tuesday to Thursday. 
> 
> Also, hope you all enjoy Dean and Cas speculating about Kevin's future when we all know he dies in season nine!!!1q11111!!1!1!! hhHAhhHAHhaHAHAHAHAHsHHhahahhaHAHHAH!111!Q!!!!!11


	23. Friends Don't Do That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes, when I said last update about how I wasn't sure of how much I could update I didn't take a surprisingly busy week this week into account. Sorry for being slow.

Dean … wasn’t the best person to share a bed with. He tossed and turned a lot in the night going from one side to the next in an effort to get comfortable, and Cas had to readjust himself several times to accommodate each new position Dean jammed himself into beside him. So, this was how Dean was when he was relaxed in sleep … Cas half wished he was as stiff and stressed out as he’d been the first time they’d slept on the same bed, or as … whatever he’d been the night they’d first slept together. Jesus fucking Christ.

And Dean woke up a lot in the night, too. He hadn’t noticed that, but in the night, Dean got up twice to use the bathroom. _Twice._ What was he, like, eighty? Although it didn’t really help that he kept drinking from the water bottle Cas had taken to keeping by his bed and refilling when empty.

‘What the fuck are you _doing_?’ a tired and annoyed Cas asked, squinting at Dean the second time he went to drink.

‘I get thirsty at night,’ Dean defended himself. ‘Now leave me alone, I’m tired.’

‘You think I’m not?’

‘Shut _up_.’

They were both pissed as they fell back to sleep, but in the morning it was a blurry and distant memory and the night as a whole was better than any they’d spent alone.

Dean was the first to wake up, which most days was the usual case, and he was in the bathroom when Cas woke, so Cas gave himself a few minutes to wake up and once he had he grabbed A Storm of Swords, which he was close to  finishing, to read for the remainder of the time Dean was in the bathroom.

Dean came out fully dressed, in the non-gravy-stained jeans Cas had washed yesterday Cas noted by looking near Dean’s crotch, and sat on the bed on Cas’s side, almost on top of Cas’s legs.

‘Morning,’ he greeted cheerfully. ‘Kevin up yet?’

‘I didn’t check,’ Castiel replied, holding up the book.

‘Priorities,’ Dean replied. ‘Right. I’ll check.’

‘And I’ll shower,’ Cas decided, maneuvering his way around Dean to sit beside him, stand up, grab some clothes and vanish without another word.

When Cas came back Dean was still on the bed, reading Cas’s copy of A Storm of Swords. He wasn’t as far in on his reread as Cas was on his first read, and his own copy was probably laying around on some surface out in the kitchen or something where he’d last left it. It had turned out that Dean kept all of those books in the trunk of his car, hidden beneath piles of weapons and other supplies.  

‘What are you doing?’ Castiel asked in greeting as he closed the bathroom door.

‘He’s still asleep,’ Dean replied, patting the bed next to him and closing the book. ‘Didn’t want to wake him. He probably doesn’t get much sleep most days.’

‘That’s considerate of you,’ Castiel nodded, climbing onto the bed next to Dean and settling himself comfortably. ‘You didn’t have to stop reading, though. Please, continue.’

‘Nah,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Then what would you do?’

‘Read with you.’

‘Dude, you’re way ahead of me.’

‘So?’

‘So why reread a part of a book you’re not even finished reading? No, man. We can do something else. Like … my laptop is still here. We could watch an episode or two of Friends and if Kevin’s still asleep then we can throw cold water on him.’

‘That’s cruel.’

‘You pronounced “funny” wrong.’

‘And childish.’

‘You pronounced “actually, not funny, hilarious” wrong.’

‘But I pronounced the word “cruel” and “childish” correctly.’

‘Come on,’ Dean grinned, like a naughty young puppy, ‘where’s your sense of humor?’

‘… Warm water,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘It’s more humane.’

‘Okay, fine. Warm water.’ Dean rolled his eyes at Cas’s reasoning, grabbed his laptop from where he’d left it last night and picked up. ‘So, Friends?’

‘Of course. I’d never give up an opportunity to stare at Joey.’

‘Yeah, Cas. No need to rub it in my face. You’ve said you like Joey about a thousand times now.’

‘I like Joey,’ Cas commented. ‘There, a thousand and one.’

Dean picked the book he’d put down back up and lightly tapped Cas in the face with it. Castiel grabbed the book and put it away in the box set with the others, glaring at Dean while Dean began to set up the next episode to watch, which they got through, and then Dean went to see if Kevin was awake which unfortunately, he was, so no pouring water on him.

When Dean wished Kevin a good morning, he was eating cereal after making himself at home yet again, and he was fully dressed too. He looked, if possible, perkier than he had the day before which was weird because before yesterday Dean hadn’t even known Kevin to be perky.

‘Join me for breakfast, guys,’ Kevin requested, when Cas too came out behind Dean. ‘It’s your food so you should eat it.’

‘Such a generous offer,’ Dean replied sarcastically.

And so, they began their day.

While Cas did dishes after breakfast – Dean having done them last time – with Kevin as his aid, Dean closed up Kevin’s bed and moved the stuff from it onto Cas’s as was usual, and after breakfast they decided it was about time they got a move on with the distribution of the hex bags, so Kevin got to spend the afternoon in a new city he’d never been in, which Dean and Cas had long gotten used to.

‘ _How_ are you guys so … normal around all of this?’ Kevin asked.

‘You get used to it,’ Castiel shrugged.

‘At first it was like “woah, the hell?” and now it’s like “hey, look a new sign,”’ Dean added.

Kevin seemed a little thrown.

They went with Cas’s small fake potted plants idea, and bought enough for every apartment in the building apart from their own and the empty one, then they bought small boxes to put them in, and a box of small Christmas cards to attach to each and write out that it was a gift and a sign of peace to everyone to be kept for luck, omitting who from.

Kevin helped cut holes in the boxes once they got home after lunch, and helped open up the plants, conceal the hex bags within and then put the repaired plants in their boxes. The three of them wrote out the cards, the same thing on each except with a new apartment number for each individual one, and then they put them all the side for Dean and Cas to sneak into the mail at night.

There wasn’t much time for anything else after the task was complete apart from a quick snack before Dean drove Kevin to the airport and they saw him off, and he swore over and over that he wouldn’t tell Sam a thing, and would make out the person Dean was pretending to do the case with to be unsocial and angry.

‘I’m giving him a unibrow and a goatee,’ Kevin decided. ‘And really hairy hands … feet and hands the size of whole big plates … and a voice like Phoebe’s.’

‘Maybe him as whiny as Ross,’ Dean added.

‘We can’t be friends anymore,’ Kevin replied coolly, as a fan of Ross’s.

Thankfully, they made up before Kevin got on the plane, and Dean and Cas left the airport, deciding to eat out in LA before they went home. The food they had was good and the place was close to the airport so there were a lot of people hanging around there, and therefore a lot of witnesses to see Dean almost pass out when watching Cas eat a piled-high burger effortlessly despite its height, thinking, _my dick was in that mouth_ , as he did, trying not to think about what had been in _his_ mouth the night before.

They left after their meal hand in hand heading back towards the car.

Neither of them mentioned the fact that they weren’t in West Hollywood and therefore there was no need for the hand holding thing, which stopped when they reached the car but started again when they reached home, which now in the evening was stirring a little more, people coming home from work, or from visiting family if they were still on holiday time and so on.

‘Seems like things are getting back to normal,’ Dean commented when they reached the elevator, getting in alone. ‘No one seems to be acting weird.’

‘Well it’s not the first murder in the building,’ Castiel reminded him, ‘and I doubt the exact details of what happened were released. I’m sure people are keeping their guard up, but not in a way that would warrant an atmospherical change in the building.’

‘I guess,’ Dean agreed. ‘We should give it a few more days, anyway. Lay low until the new year. Buy a few board games to keep ourselves occupied or something.’

‘It’s … four more days until the new year,’ Castiel counted. ‘Not including the rest of today. And then we’ll have been here since _last year_.’

‘I can’t wait until we get to make jokes like “I haven’t showered since last year” or “I haven’t used the bathroom since last year” or “I haven’t had sex since last year.”’

‘If you make any of those jokes, you’ll never have sex _again_.’

‘Hey, this case has to end some time,’ Dean pointed out as they got off the elevator. ‘And as soon as it does, I’ll be having sex with every man and woman I come across, so it doesn’t matter if you don’t let me have sex with _you_. So the never having sex _again_ thing is a little over the top.’

‘I will seduce you,’ Castiel stared, going on to say, ‘I will seduce you, and we will end up in a position where the use of the third condom is required. And then I will go and get a knife, and I’ll cut off your dick.’

‘I’ll still have a sex drive if you leave the balls, though,’ Dean told him, ‘and you don’t need a dick to get fucked in the ass.’

‘But if I shove the severed dick up your ass and then seal it in with cement, that’s a whole other story.’

‘You’re … frighteningly violent.’

‘So don’t make stupid jokes.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And don’t call me “sir.”’

‘Yes, madam.’

The entered the apartment and Cas pulled off his jacket and stared to unbutton his shirt. As soon as Dean noticed what Cas was doing, he was startled.

‘What’s happening here?’

‘Let’s do it over there,’ Castiel decided, one handedly unbuttoning and pointing at the counter near the knife set with the other. ‘By the _knives_.’

‘But I didn’t make one of those jokes!’

‘I told you not to make _stupid_ jokes. And then you made a stupid joke.’

‘Okay, okay, fine, I’m sorry,’ Dean said quickly, practically pouncing forward onto Cas to button his shirt back up. ‘No sir, no madam. How’s “your highness” or “your majesty” or “my lord?”’

‘Better,’ Castiel said thoughtfully, ‘but I’d prefer to be called something you wouldn’t generally hear being used by anyone else.’

Dean racked his brain, but it didn’t take much racking.

‘My … sexy angel man?’

Castiel laughed, just a small laugh before he stopped. The stop turned out to be more of a pause, because then he laughed some more and Dean grinned at him, his eyes glinting with mischief.

‘Okay, fine, call me whatever you want,’ Castiel decided, walking towards the sofa now that his shirt was buttoned back to where it had been.

‘Okay, Muriel.’

Cas started unbuttoning his shirt again.

‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry!’ Dean said quickly, rushing over to sit next to him and button it back up.

‘Don’t address me at all,’ Castiel decided.

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Dean said, rolling his eyes, buttoning Cas’s shirt right up to the very top this time. ‘So coffee, guy who says “don’t address me at all?” Or something else to take a breather before I go out again?’

‘Technically “guy who says ‘don’t address me at all’” is addressing me,’ Castiel pointed out, ‘but no, not coffee, I want some of that new hot chocolate we got Sunday, with cream and a teaspoon of Nutella like you made last time. Why are you going out again?’

‘Board games, dude,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Ever played Monopoly? Bobby used to have one but half the pieces were missing. Me and Sam still played, and he sucked.’

‘Why are you asking me if I’ve ever played Monopoly? The only board game I’ve ever played is called “Sorry” and I wasn’t even in my right state of mind when doing that and didn’t get to finish the game because you pushed it off the table. You know that.’

Dean froze half way to the cupboard and turned back around.

‘Cas, I –’

‘I know, Dean. You’re … _sorry_.’

‘Now look who’s making bad jokes?’ Dean accused, pointing a finger at Cas, glad the moment had passed so quickly.

‘I’m allowed,’ Castiel said boldly. ‘I haven’t been on earth as long as you have. I’m still learning.’

‘You just have an excuse for everything. Y’know that?’

‘Well, yes, naturally I know since I’m the one with all of the excuses.’

‘Can you quit sassing me for five minutes?’

‘Can I? Yes, I have the ability. Shall I? No.’

‘That’s it,’ Dean decided. ‘No Nutella.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Castiel said quickly.

‘Oh, sure. And I believe you because …?’

‘Because you think my eyes are pretty.’  

Dean heaved a heavy sigh, weighing his options. It was either get Cas his requested drink … or not do that. So his options were pretty dumb and didn’t really make much of a difference either way besides it coming back to bite him possibly if Cas brought it up in the future.

‘Come here,’ Dean instructed. ‘I need to double check.’

Castiel stood up and walked towards Dean slowly in as straight a line as his gay ass could walk in. He came to a stop in front of Dean, who placed his hands on his shoulders and peered closely at Cas’s eyes and he felt like he wanted to dive head first into them because oh, shit, they weren’t just pretty. They were beautiful, the most beautiful eyes anyone could ever hope to have, and Dean felt lucky just to be watched by them.

‘Yeah,’ Dean said, swallowing, stepping away, ‘still pretty.’

‘Are you sure?’ Castiel asked, stepping closer the step Dean had taken away.

‘Pretty sure,’ Dean said, nodding, taking another back.

‘Are you _certain_?’ Castiel pressed, raking another forward.

‘Y-yes,’ Dean half choked, standing still

Castiel tilted his head, and Dean felt like he was about to start shaking under that concentrated gaze, but he stood perfectly motionless which was almost as bad. His breath turned to ice inside his lungs when Cas put a hand on his face, thumb stroking near his eyes, and those damn blue pits of glory Cas had narrowed.

‘Your eyes are pretty too. I think I told you that, didn’t I? Before Kevin came out of the shower?’

Dean nodded, swallowing nervously.

‘Yeah,’ he managed to get out, his throat suddenly dryer than it would be if he’d eaten sand.

‘Well … they are,’ Castiel said decidedly, turning on the spot and walking away.

Dean couldn’t find words for his yearning as his feet stood glued to the spot as he watched Cas go. He was only walking back to the sofa, but Dean felt like he was walking a thousand miles away, because that had happened, and was likely to happen again despite how much Dean didn’t want it to.

And then Cas turned back, walked quickly over to Dean and casually did something he’d done last night, too, although it wasn’t anything like how it had been last night. Last night it had been quick and hard, and before, when they’d had sex, it had been rough and violent, but now it was … deep. How did Cas even know how to kiss deep? And slow? And then soft? And then … he just walked away again like nothing had happened.

‘So, come on, hot chocolate before you go out and buy board games? I’ve heard of many in passing but never actually played. Besides the one you know of. When do people tend to play board games, anyway?’

‘Uh …’ it took a moment for Dean to remember how to speak, ‘at like … occasions … or gatherings. And it’s a holiday … coming up to another holiday … so …’

‘Now is an appropriate time,’ Castiel concluded.

‘Yeah,’ Dean nodded, finding his voice and his mind again. ‘So, yeah. Hot chocolate then I’ll go.’

Dean managed to regain his stability when he was making their drinks, and when he sat down next to Cas and looked at him it was like … nothing had happened. Because it meant nothing to Cas, obviously, he knew that, but like … why? Why was Cas … like why did he … kiss … Dean? Because he was pretty and Cas liked kissing men? Knew he might not be around such blazing good looks for a while after this unless by some miracle he managed to find someone just as attractive? Probably. Whatever. Didn’t matter. So they were friends who hooked up, and they were friends who kissed sometimes. People did that … right?

Dean didn’t know.

Dean didn’t ask.

Dean drank hot chocolate with his friend and discussed A Storm of Swords, and then Dean went out and bought some board games in the entertainment section of the grocery store which really sold a little bit of everything, and then Dean put them on the table, lifted Cas’s legs from across the cushions, sat on the sofa and rested Cas’s legs back over his and started pulling at the toes of his socks to stretch them out and piss Cas off enough to get his attention.

Instead, Cas didn’t seem to mind the fabric of his socks being stretched away from his toes, and he bent back his leg and put his foot against Dean’s face, pushing it away.

‘Your feet stink,’ Dean stated.

‘So does your breath in the morning,’ Castiel retorted, moving his foot away and closing his book. He swiveled so that he was now sitting upright with both feet planted firmly on the floor near his discarded shoes and looked at the table. ‘Show me what you got.’

Dean had gotten four. Monopoly, Scrabble, Clue and Chess.

‘I didn’t know you played Chess,’ Castiel stated with a frown.

‘I haven’t since I was a teenager,’ Dean confessed. ‘I played it with this chick I was dating. Super smart, really pretty … she taught me. But I remember the rules. Why, you’ve never played, have you?’

‘No,’ Castiel said with a shake of his head. ‘But I’ve watched humans do so since the game’s invention. It took me a long time to figure out the rules through observation. A fun thing to do as an angel was to walk through parks, unseen and watch games play out. I don’t know that I would be any good at it, though. It’s a highly intellectual game.’

‘And you’re a highly intellectual person,’ Dean shrugged.

‘I don’t remember all of the exact rules and I’m not even that good at observing it.’

‘You don’t know the rules to the other ones either,’ Dean shrugged. ‘I can teach you those, and I can teach you Chess. I learned from someone super smart and really pretty, so I can teach someone super smart and really pretty.’

Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s knee and Dean looked at it, then back up at Cas smiling softly at him. He considered it a moment, and tilted his head slightly, leaning in, just for a tentative brush … and then a soft kiss like a feather being dragged across his lips.

Yup. Friends who kissed. It was cool. They were cool.

‘Your lips are pretty,’ Dean commented, shyly reaching up a hand to take Cas’s chin, allowing his thumb to brush over his lips.

Cas licked them.

‘Thank you,’ he replied. ‘And yours … they’re so … _pink_.’

‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’

‘A good thing,’ Castiel decided. ‘Definitely a good thing.’

They sat and stared at each other for another moment or two, and then Dean dipped in again and Cas moved with him and they met in the middle, and now it was like two feathers rubbing together with the lightest movements, and Dean caressed Cas’s neck and Cas’s cheek, and they were no longer just feathers, and Cas moved his hand from Dean’s knee to his waist and the other to the side of his head, and then that hand slid down to Dean’s waist too, wrapping around him, pulling him closer until Dean was on Cas’s lap and he was kissing the man he loved with no strings attached, and even though he knew Cas didn’t love him too it was okay, because Cas was letting Dean love him, however obliviously, and all Dean could do was cause himself pain again and again which he’d already said was okay, because the pain was worth it for the sake of an angel, an angel in celestial state, an angel in humanity, an angel if he were a damn alpaca that could talk, because that alpaca would still be Cas and as long as Cas was Cas, Cas was everything.

They were interrupted by Sam calling and broke apart, Dean sliding from Cas’s lap onto the sofa to pull out his phone and answer it, Cas idly leaning towards the coffee table to pick up each board game in turn and inspect it, picking up Chess last and beginning to pick off the clingy see through plastic that wrapped the box, listening to Dean confirming Kevin was on the plane and telling Sam about the thing with the fake plants.

Cas picked at the corner of the plastic but it wouldn’t come off, his grip on it difficult to maintain with short nails, so he plucked at it with his teeth a few times until several stretchable small rips were made so he could pull off the rest of the plastic and open the box just as Dean was saying ‘yeah, I’ll make sure to check in on Cas later. But come on, Sam, the dude’s probably busy opening boxes and making out with really hot guys … what? What do you mean “what do you consider to be a really hot guy” I didn’t _mean_ what I consider – and I _don’t_ consider – shut up, Sammy!’

 _Well done_ , Castiel mouthed sarcastically.

‘Look, listen, I gotta go. J’s about to watch this weird show and I need to get under cover in the bedroom before it starts … _yes_ , we’ve established I’m calling Cas in the morning. Now goodbye.’

‘“Making out with really hot guys,”’ Castiel repeated tastefully. ‘First of all, you really backed yourself into a corner with that one. Second of all, you seem to have a high opinion of yourself, when all I did was say that your eyes were pretty and your lips were pink.’

‘We’ve already established that I’m vain.’

‘Humans truly are creatures of extreme vanity, aren’t they?’

‘Yeah, _we_ are. Emphasis on the _we_ , mister “gotta check my hair in the shiny napkin holder before we leave the place we’re eating.”’

Dean’s imitation of something Cas hadn’t said, but had done wordlessly, was eerily accurate as he said the words and mimicked the actions.

‘Well, I have to make sure I look good,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘for all the average looking guys I make out with before I open boxes.’

‘ _Average_ ,’ Dean scoffed.

‘Have you seen Joey in season one of Friends?’ Castiel asked. ‘Have you see the guy who plays David in Once Upon A Time? Hook? I could go on.’

‘Suck my dick.’

‘Maybe later,’ Castiel offered. ‘For now, I’d like you to teach me how to play Chess correctly and not just have me figuring it out from observation. I know where the pawns go, but the others I’m not so sure, and I don’t know which is which with these two, or what the hell this is supposed to be.’

The two turned out to be the king and the queen, and the “what the hell” turned out to be the bishops. Castiel nodded as he listened to Dean explain every piece and how it could move, and then they played their first game, which didn’t last very long, and Dean won. And their second game didn’t last much longer, and Cas won. And about five ten minute games in, the games started to get longer, because Cas started paying attention to more of his pieces and Dean’s pieces at once, and once or twice he noticed a mistake Dean made that Dean hadn’t noticed, but it never aided him in any way because evidentially Dean always got him in check over and over until Cas ran out of moves to make that would save him and it was check mate, but Cas wasn’t even mad because it was a challenging game and he wanted to learn.

So they gave Chess a break to let their minds cool off, and moved on to Monopoly.

Their minds did not cool off.

Dean was a vicious home owner and hotel owner and bought up everything he liked the look of, and Cas bought anything he landed on so Dean didn’t get it first, and it turned into a rather competitive and almost violent game, Dean trying to knock house markers out of Cas’s hand, Cas purposefully trying to throw the dice onto Dean’s property to disrupt the nice, even way he’d put out the houses and hotels on each, and two and a half hours later Cas lost and Dean gloated and Cas stalked off into the bedroom before Dean even had a chance to stop.

‘Come on, Cas,’ Dean urged once he’d stopped gloating and met an already shirtless Cas in the bedroom, ‘you know I was just doing it to annoy you. But my hotels, they got the best of you in the end,’ he said gently, sympathetically, reaching out to take Cas by the waist. ‘And that’s … because you suck.’

Cas pulled away as Dean began to grin but the gloating didn’t begin again because Cas flung his jeans at Dean’s head and Dean glared at him for a moment before he too began to undress.

‘Come on, Cas,’ Dean urged. ‘It’s only ten thirty, so … one more game? Something else. Scrabble. We’ll play Scrabble, come on.’

‘ _One_ game,’ Cas said carefully, pulling on his sweats and then a shirt and eyeing Dean up suspiciously and untrustingly. ‘Just _one_.’

When Cas lost his first game, however, the one game thing went completely out the window.

Five games later, and they decided to set up the bed so they could linger more comfortably while they played, each of them moving the pillows to lean against the very back corners near the arms of the sofa, the Scrabble board where the pillows usually lay. They’d brushed their teeth and were completely ready for bed, and it was definitely just one more game now.

Or three.

Cas won a total of one out of the eight games they’d played, and neither one of them was sure of how it had gotten to midnight without them noticing. Dean cleared away the game, turned on the lamp, closed the curtains and turned off the main light while Cas fixed Dean’s pillows, and then Dean got back on the bed, but under the covers this time.

‘I can’t believe you tricked me into playing that stupid game with you for so long,’ Castiel said with a disapproving frown at Dean next to him.

‘You’re only calling it stupid because you suck at it.’

‘I don’t _suck_ at it,’ Castiel said through gritted teeth. ‘I just … couldn’t make any good words because I didn’t get any good letters. It was all down to chance.’

‘Yeah, whatever you say buddy.’

‘I’m going now,’ Castiel said decidedly, getting off the bed and going around the back of it, easier than going down the length and around the end. ‘For _sure_ this time.’

‘No, Cas, wait,’ Dean pleaded, grabbing Dean’s wrist as he passed him. ‘Don’t go.’

‘Dean, you already put away the game, and I’m not in the mood to learn about the other one that we haven’t played yet. I’m tired.’

‘Yeah, I know, I get it,’ Dean nodded, still holding onto Cas’s wrist even tighter though he wasn’t trying to pull away. ‘Just … don’t go. Stay. Please. Five more minutes.’

Castiel sighed, shrugged his wrist out of Dean’s grasp and went back the way he came. Dean pulled back to covers for him and Cas slid beneath them obediently, allowing Dean to flip them back over him. Cas turned towards Dean slightly, and he raised his eyebrows.

‘So … what is it that you wanted?’

Dean shrugged. Cas watched him.

‘I didn’t expect you to stay,’ Dean admitted.

‘Dean, I’ll always stay if you ask me to,’ Castiel frowned, as if he didn’t understand how Dean could even consider thinking that Cas wouldn’t stay with him. ‘You don’t even need a reason.’

‘I don’t?’

‘No.’

Dean slid down into a laying position and Cas watched him, and after a moment he slid down with him, so that they were both on their backs. They weren’t particularly close together, but their hands were brushing above the covers, and after several moments of silence, they joined them. Several whole minutes later, Dean turned off the lamp.

They didn’t speak after Castiel’s “no.” They didn’t even move after Dean turned off the lamp. But at some point they fell asleep.

‘That was a long five minutes,’ were the first words Cas said to Dean when he woke up and noticed Dean was staring at him.  

‘Closer to nine hours,’ Dean agreed, having already checked the time. ‘But I don’t mind. Five minutes, nine hours, what’s the difference, right?’

‘Well … one is five minutes and the other is nine hours. They’re two completely different lengths of time.’

‘Yeah, but _really_ what’s the difference?’

‘… Eight hours and fifty five minutes.’

‘Yeah, but what’s the _actual_ –’

There were two things that Dean predicted Cas might do, and Cas did both of them. He kissed him, and then he whacked him in the face with a pillow, before hopping out of bed and walking over to the kitchen to make coffee.

‘There we go,’ Dean muttered, in reference to the pillow hitting him and Cas just casually sauntering away, dripping with unspoken sass. ‘Morning, sunshine.’

‘What was that?’ Castiel asked, raising his eyebrows in Dean’s direction.

‘Nothing,’ Dean mumbled, putting a hand behind his head, ‘nothing at all.’

Castiel may have started the morning off with non-tolerance of Dean’s dumb jokes, but he soon softened and brought Dean over some coffee in bed, and then he made some toast which he also brought over, a wide selection of different toppings on them, including butter, Nutella, two different jams and some spreadable cheese. It was all on one plate, which he placed between he and Dean as he climbed back into bed, his coffee resting on the arm of the sofa.

‘You’re generous this morning,’ Dean commented, sitting up a little straighter.

‘Well, you only got up once last night,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And you stayed relatively still throughout the night, you know, on your back. When you sleep on your side you toss from side to side a lot.’

‘I trained myself to sleep still on my back,’ Dean told him. ‘I sleep on my back when I’m on a serious fast-paced case. So I can just sit up and get out of bed more quickly, or sit up to defend myself if I need to.’

‘That’s clever,’ Castiel mused.

‘You have to be clever in this line of work.’

‘So what were you protecting yourself against last night?’ Castiel wondered. ‘Me? Were you afraid I was going to attack?’

‘No,’ Dean said quietly. ‘I was afraid you were going to leave.’

‘I’ll never leave you, Dean,’ Castiel promised. ‘Only if you ask me to or if the circumstance is dire. Like a threat I need to face alone.’

‘I don’t like the thought of you facing threats alone.’

‘I know.’

They fell silent, crunching toast. Dean comprehended that Cas _knew_ Dean didn’t like the thought of him facing threats alone. He wished he knew the full extent of it.

And then Cas dropped his piece of toast and swore.

‘What?’ Dean asked.

‘We forgot to distribute the hex bags,’ Castiel stated.

‘Fuck,’ Dean groaned. ‘We’ll do it tonight. No distractions this time.’

‘Are you sure about that?’

‘I’ll set an alarm on my phone for ten thirty tonight. It’ll remind us about it.’

‘You should do that now, before we forget again.’

Dean nodded and grabbed his phone from beside the lamp to do it and once he had, they got back to their peaceful breakfast.

Cas let Dean shower first because that’s what Dean was used to with waking up before Cas most mornings, and while Dean was showering he did the dishes and put away Dean’s bed. He saw his own bed looking untouched and almost cold when he entered the bedroom, and the he thought of the sofa bed which had, back at the very start, looked cold and untouchable, yet now it seemed warm and welcoming and Dean filled.

He read until Dean came out of the bathroom and he went in, and so they went about their day.

Saturday morning television was awful, so they gave up on that almost as soon as they’d started, and opted to watch the last few episodes of Friends season five, and then Dean went out to pick up season six and when he got back they decided to tackle that last board game Dean had gotten, Clue. It turned out to be Mrs White in the Ballroom with the knife, and Dean was not happy about losing.

‘That’s it, from now on we’re playing Chess,’ Dean declared, getting to his feet to switch out the game, grumbling as he went. ‘I need to beat you a few times before we can have lunch.’

Although, surprisingly enough, Cas _won_ one of the chess games, and Dean wasn’t a sore loser like he’d expect – he was _proud_ of him, and he grabbed his face and he kissed him fast and hard, and then he went to make them lunch while Cas tried to figure out how the fuck he’d won in the first place while simultaneously trying not to press his hand over his lips and touch where Dean’s had been on them, like he felt like doing every time Dean kissed him. He hoped that was true for Dean every time he kissed Dean, too, but doubted it.

Cas was very much liking this unspoken thing they had of being friends who kissed each other as well as hooked up, and he liked the thing last night where he’d slept in Dean’s bed. Granted, they hadn’t been close together and they’d really only fallen asleep because they’d lost track of the five minutes of time Cas had been supposed to stay … right?

But why had Dean asked him to stay in the first place?

Cas glanced over at Dean, making sandwiches for lunch with some chips on the side. They’d started having sandwiches a lot at lunch, because Cas already knew Dean liked them, but Cas _really_ liked PB&J ones … there was just something so weird about them that he liked.

Dean was working away spreading the peanut butter over the bread on Cas’s sandwich, and Cas wandered over to linger by his side and watch him more closely … almost like he was trying to analyze him, his thoughts, figure out what the hell had been going on in his head last night.

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked.

‘Yeah?’ Dean replied, turning towards him with raised eyebrows and a pleasant, friendly and ever-welcoming smile.

Cas put his hand on Dean’s face, leaned in and kissed him just … just to see. Just to watch Dean’s reaction, which he hadn’t been watching before. He’d only been paying attention to his own, or how he felt about it, never bothering to see what Dean did when he pulled away …

And there was something in Dean’s eyes when Cas pulled away that Cas couldn’t place, although somewhere in the back of his mind a word screamed out to him, a word he had to ignore because it was completely ridiculous.

‘What … what was that for?’ Dean asked, slightly thrown, a knife covered in peanut butter still in his hand.

‘I just …’ Castiel sighed, looking down. It didn’t _work_. He couldn’t tell what was going on in Dean’s head any more than he could have if he hadn’t done it. ‘Nothing. You … nothing. It doesn’t … I’m going to get us drinks.’

So Cas turned away and grabbed some glasses and didn’t try to work out Dean any more, and didn’t try to dwell on the possibility that … no.

His mind … it wouldn’t even let him say it. It just … he … it wasn’t … it didn’t make sense. It wasn’t even possible, in every sense of the word possible. How could he recognize that look, anyway? It’s not like he’d ever seen anyone give it to him before. He’d looked at others in that way, of course, but it’s not like he knew what the look actually looked like.

He knew what it _felt_ like, for someone, Dean specifically, to have the feeling associated with the look and apply in reference to him, but it had actually made sense then. As an angel he could feel it, and he understood why Dean was feeling it, because Cas had been gone, he’d been in purgatory and Dean didn’t know if he was dead or alive and he just really wanted him there to know.

But there was no possible way that Dean could have been _longing_ for Cas _now_. He was _right there_.

He supposed, there _was_ a way in which Dean could be longing for Cas despite being around him, being with him, but not … _with_ him … but he’d already reminded himself every minute of every hour of every day for a month that it was stupid and ridiculous and not possible, because no one could want _him_ , especially not Dean, because Dean deserved better and he had to know he deserved better … right?

After all, Dean did think very highly of himself, frequently declaring himself hilarious, and boasting about how attractive he was …

Cas also boasted about how attractive he was at times, and enjoyed pissing Dean off by prolonging his time in front of reflective surfaces preening himself, fixing his hair, wiping away imaginary dust specks and so on. And he enjoyed saying “yes, I am” when Dean said something like “you’re an asshole” when it was in response to something funny and cutting Cas had said.

But the thing was, Cas didn’t actually _believe_ all of that. Sure. He could see he was attractive. He could be what Dean often described as “sassy” at times. But it didn’t make him think as highly of himself as Dean seemed to think of him. It’s not as though he would even have to confidence to go out in the world and act the way he wanted to, the way he was now, comfortable and safe with Dean, a man who _actually_ radiated self confidence.

Or … did he?

Dean … he put up that mask. That wall. That façade, all the time.

The Dean he’d known before, the Dean he saw around Sam, or around other people in his life, that wasn’t the Dean _he_ knew. The kind and soft and warm and generous and funny Dean, the cute and nerdy Dean, the Dean who watched movies about ogres and princesses falling in love, and watched British Christmas movies about the lives and loves of an array of different characters (oh yeah, that “Love Actually” movie hadn’t slipped Cas by among all of the comedies) and the Dean that just … wasn’t afraid to show who he really was.

Because Dean usually seemed to be afraid to show who he really was.

And he’d _admitted_ that, in some form. When he’d told Cas more than once he had to _try_ to be completely open. When it became obvious at the start that it didn’t come naturally. When it took time and work for Dean to allow himself to be who he truly was.

And if Dean was so confident in who he was … he wouldn’t put that wall up. He wouldn’t shut people out.

Sure, Dean was confident in his looks, and he was proud of the really really really really really really really really really really reaaaaaaally bad jokes, just as he was proud of the good ones.

But … was that it?

Did Dean not … did he not see himself the way Cas saw him? Did he not understand how good he truly was, and how if he let people see that, that only good would come of it?

Did he, in actuality, have that one huge thing in common with Cas, the thing being that he didn’t feel good about himself, despite outside reassurances and that’s …

That’s why Dean was … settling.

He was settling for … longing ... for Cas?

Because he didn’t feel he deserved better. Just as Cas didn’t feel he deserved _as good_ as Dean?

It couldn’t be true.

It just couldn’t, couldn’t be true.

Cas felt a _physical ache_ in his heart, and _actual tears_ burning his eyes.

When one tear accidentally fell, he wiped it away and took a breath, facing the table as he walked towards it and sat down, putting on a casual mask of non-emotion as Dean brought the plates towards the table.

He looked at Dean as he sat across from him and thought about how highly Dean seemed to think of him and he felt bad that none of it was true. He was upset that Dean couldn’t see how truly undeserving of all of those praising thoughts Cas was, and he was upset that maybe, just maybe, Dean felt a fraction of _something_ for Cas, and that’s what was clouding his thoughts and putting the false images in his head, the images where Cas was something better than he was.

But … no. Again, it was stupid to think Dean had any kind of feelings for him … despite the longing look and not knowing how much better he could do in that area.

But throughout the day, Cas began to doubt exactly how true it was that Dean couldn’t have those feelings for him.

Dean carried all of Cas’s dishes for him, and as usual said he’d wash them alone, eventually giving in when Cas offered as he usually did. That was for both lunch _and_ dinner, _and_ the snack Cas had around nine while they watched Friends together, side by side on the sofa, their legs touching even though they didn’t need to be. Cas knew why _he_ had his leg so close to Dean’s. But for Dean to be doing the same thing …

Many board games throughout the day helped further prove Cas’s theory. He hadn’t noticed it before, but in Chess and also in Scrabble, Dean seemed to be going easy on him, although in the other games where they were more evenly matched, he wasn’t. And the pride in Dean’s eyes whenever Cas made a smart move on something, or won a game of cards he wasn’t usually good at, or even voiced an opinion about what he was reading in A Storm of Swords, just one chapter to go until he finished …

That wasn’t a look that you gave to your friends.

And just … how Dean looked at Cas in general, whether watching TV, reading, playing a card game of a board game or some ping pong which they were getting far better at, or even carrying a box of artificial plants down to the lobby …

The way Dean looked at him in general didn’t look like a look he’d give to friends either.

And that stung.

They got the plants with the hex bags into each mail slot without being seen, and quickly made their way back up to the apartment, deciding to watch one more Friends episode before they parted for bed. Once the episode finished, they went to change together, and when Cas emerged from the bathroom after brushing his teeth Dean was still in his room, although it was clear he’d briefly left to set up his own bed because Cas’s was no longer double-made, but the curtains were closed and the covers were pulled back on the side of the bed Cas usually slept on.

‘Thanks,’ Castiel said in reference to the pulling back of the covers as he got into bed.

‘No problem,’ Dean smiled at him as he too vanished into the bathroom for teeth brushing.

When Dean came out and went to take his leave, he sat on the side of Cas’s bed for a moment, and he kissed him goodnight.

Friends didn’t kiss friends like that.

Cas was almost certain of it now.

The thing that made him feel definite about the whole thing was when, twenty minutes after leaving for his own bed, Cas woke up to find Dean wordlessly climbing in next to him and pressing up close, and Cas’s arms opened to embrace him as he nestled into them.

Cas loved Dean. It wasn’t news.

But what was news was that Dean loved Cas, and it was agonizing news, because in all of his thought and observation he’d figured out that although Dean loved him, Dean would never tell him, for the exact same reason Cas would never tell Dean how he felt.

Dean didn’t feel like he deserved Cas, and felt Cas deserved better than him.

Dean didn’t know how wrong he was, and it stung to know now that Dean loved him and there still wasn’t a single thing he could do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SLIGHT S12 EP3 SPOILERS***
> 
> *Casually references the "Morning sunshine" part*
> 
> And can we just ... can we talk about Cas in 12x03 for a sec vs Cas in this? Cas in the episode was sassing and making fun or Crowley and there was that part where he was checking his hair and like ... that's ... how I'm writing Cas. Sassy and vain. I didn't expect him to start acting like that on the show. Maybe he's finally getting comfortable with being more himself on there too. Damn, Cas.


	24. Sharing Beds and Kinks

When Cas woke first for once, Dean’s face was buried in his chest, his head pressed beneath his chin, his forehead against his neck. One of Dean’s hands was under his own head, the other resting on his other arm, and his knees were slightly bent, or so Cas could feel.

 _He loves me_ , Castiel thought fleetingly, _I can’t have him, but he loves me_.

More than just part of him was screaming the question, “why does he?”

Whatever the answer was, he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t care. He just wanted to wrap his arms around Dean and lay there until they were both awake, and so that’s what he did, and when Dean woke up all sleepy-eyed and smiling up at him, Cas’s heart swelled and then broke.

‘Hey,’ Dean mumbled, his smile so … adoring. It made Cas want to bang his head against a wall until he passed out.

‘Hey,’ Castiel replied, sadly bending his head down to press his lips against Dean’s forehead, wondering if it made Dean feel as happy as Cas felt to be able to do it. ‘Did you … did you sleep well?’

‘Kinda,’ Dean replied, considering the question. ‘I ended up in some guy’s bed. Don’t know how that happened. Still wondering if he objects.’

‘He doesn’t,’ Castiel promised. ‘He doesn’t, at all. He’d even like to make a joke and say that you didn’t snore this time, the joke being that you’ve never snored anyway.’

‘Well I say “shut up” to that joke.’

Dean rolled onto his back and Castiel released his arms from around him as Dean stretched and pulled himself up into a sitting position, Castiel momentarily pausing before mimicking him and sighing, because the slight bend in his spine that it took to sit felt good, so he stretched the entire thing out and almost punched Dean in the face when he stretched his arm out but Dean didn’t seem to notice.

‘Really, though,’ Dean persisted. ‘Do you object?’

‘No,’ Castiel promised, shifting his position again so he was angled towards Dean enough to comfortably reach across and take his face in his hand. ‘I don’t.’

‘Why don’t you?’

 _Because I love you_ , Cas thought.

No.

_Because I love you too._

Maybe.

_Because I’m in love with you._

Better.

‘Because I’m … gay. And you’re really hot.’

 _Fuck_.

‘What about Joey? Or David? Or Hook?’

‘They’re not in my bed. So I’ll settle for you.’

_But why are you settling for me?_

Dean laughed and playfully punched Cas’s face, then moved to kiss the place he hadn’t even actually punched. A pause, and then their lips found each other and touched softly a few times before Dean pulled back.

‘You’re sure you don’t object?’ he asked quietly.

‘I’m sure,’ Castiel swore. ‘Besides … I’ve slept in your bed. This one is far more comfortable. I don’t blame you for seeking out the comfort.’

‘I _love_ this bed,’ Dean agreed. ‘And I don’t use that word often.’

‘I know,’ Castiel nodded, about the bed, about the word, about everything. ‘Forgive me if I don’t offer to trade beds with you. I would, I really, really would, but I don’t want to.’

‘Fair enough,’ Dean nodded, with some laughter. ‘That’s a good excuse. Speaking of excuses, you’ll have to _excuse_ me, I’m going to the bathroom unless you want to go first.’

‘No, you go,’ Castiel urged. ‘And by the way, that was awful word play. They’re not even pronounced the same way despite being spelled the same.’

‘Hey, it was worth a shot,’ Dean shrugged getting out of bed and pulling his shirt off as he went. ‘I woke up five minutes ago. Give me time to warm up.’

He tossed the shirt at Cas’s face, and it landed there perfectly hanging off of Cas’s head. Cas pulled it off and frowned at him.

‘You don’t get warm up time,’ he insisted. ‘It’s be funny or don’t try.’

‘That’s not fair.’

‘I’m not fair.’

Dean paused at the door to the bathroom to glare at Cas. And then, for good measure, he pulled off his sweats and threw those at Cas too, not saying a word before he entered the bathroom naked, ass screaming at Cas to be touched.

But of course Cas didn’t touch and allowed Dean to vanish, Cas smirking after him, and finding huge amounts of pleasure in the fact that just weeks ago even seeing each other without shirts under robes was a big deal, yet now Dean was just casually waltzing around with no clothes on at all. And he’d probably be coming back out with no clothes, too. Or in a towel. Which he would have to take off to get dressed.

It wasn’t even the prospect of _seeing_ naked Dean, which had been all he’d wanted for a very long time, but it was the actual aspect of the comfort that Dean must have felt, enough to not care about clothing at least.

Cas picked up A Storm of Swords to read the final few pages, which he finished and immediately moved on to A Feast for Crows. This was the second last book, and then after the last he was done. He wondered if he’d have time to read all of them while they were still on this case, and he wondered, too, if they’d finish all of Friends before the case ended. He wondered exactly what was going to happen when the case ended, anyway. He knew Dean was going to set him up somewhere, in a motel, with money, but he didn’t know for how long and he didn’t know what was going to happen with this whole angels having fallen thing.

All he knew was that Dean had just walked out in a towel and Cas had never put a book down so fast in his life.

‘All yours, buddy,’ Dean offered with a sweeping gesture towards the bathroom.

‘In a minute,’ Castiel decided. ‘I want to … come up with an excuse for me?’

‘You want to get a free peep show.’

‘That’s not an excuse. That’s the truth.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Dean grinned at him, waggling his eyebrows. ‘I should start charging for this.’

‘I’m willing to pay.’

‘How much?’

‘The use of two condoms. Not immediately, but at some point.’

‘Deal.’

Dean dropped his towel.

He proceeded to dress his top half first.

His request from before, from the first time they’d stripped for bed together after sleeping together, the request to not look, didn’t seem to matter anymore.

Once Dean was dressed, he put the towel he’d been wearing in the laundry basket and Cas got out of bed and stripped, casually tossing what he was wearing at Dean.

‘Put them in the laundry,’ Castiel requested, seeing and almost _feeling_ Dean’s eyes on him, like they were burning his skin, as he walked slowly into the bathroom as he possibly could. Sadly, Dean was no longer in the bedroom when he emerged, but the bed was made and the curtains were open and in the kitchen, Dean was cooking, the curtains open there too and his unused bed put away. Castiel wondered if either of them would ever use that bed for sleeping in again. He hoped it would only be used for movie nights from now on, but he wouldn’t know for sure until tonight, when it came time for the two of them to hopefully not part for bed.

After breakfast, good as usual, they moved onto their now-routine weekly chores, topping off with grocery shopping where they bought their usuals plus a few extra things for the New Year as they approached it. Before they’d gone shopping they’d grabbed some lunch, just a quick stop at Subway involving an incident where Dean’s sandwich dripped and Cas laughed at the ranch dressing on Dean’s chin, his laughter turning into a smirk once he’d tired it out.

‘I don’t know what you’re laughing for,’ Dean said accusingly. ‘You of all people should know I swallow and I swallow well enough so that this doesn’t happen.’

He wiped away the sauce on his thumb and licked it off, and Castiel fell silent, his eyes on the table, smirking even bigger at the memory.

Once all of their tasks were done, including the still horrific changing of the bed sheets, they settled down onto the sofa to relax and Dean fell against Cas’s side dramatically with a huge and satisfied sigh, as if to say ‘thank god that’s over.’

Castiel stood up, leaving Dean to slouch until he fell onto his side on the sofa.

‘Mean,’ Dean muttered.

‘I’m turning on the TV,’ Castiel told him.

‘Put on the next season of Friends,’ Dean instructed. ‘Now that we know it’s a witch and we’re the only ones she can attack, we don’t know how long we have left here so we need to hurry up with our watching.’

‘What else would I put on?’ Castiel asked rhetorically, inserting the DVD and going back over to the couch, where Dean was still half-laying on it in a very uncomfortable looking position. Castiel shoved Dean upwards and then let go of him again when he sat down, allowing Dean to slouch back down against him, lower now, head in Cas’s lap. He moved his legs into a more comfortable position too, jammed one of his hand under Cas’s thigh and brought it up between his legs and put the other hand on Cas’s leg too from above, so his arms were basically wrapped around Cas’s leg.

‘Are you comfortable down there?’ Castiel asked sarcastically.

‘I could use a blanket,’ Dean mused.

‘It’s three in the afternoon.’

‘So? It’s never too early for a blanket.’

‘Well tough. You’re not getting a blanket.’

‘Spoil sport.’

‘Yes. Proudly.’

Castiel rested a hand on Dean’s head. And then slipped it down to cover his eyes. Dean swatted his hand away, making Cas laugh, but he gave in and left Dean alone. A moment later, he very slowly and very gently rested his hand on Dean’s shoulder, and left it there for most of the hour they stayed like that, getting through three episodes, before they decided Dean betting get up and start cooking. He was making lasagna again today, for the second time, because they just seemed to be in the mood for it.

Castiel thought about how the first meal, the first real, actual evening meal that Dean had cooked for them was lasagna, and that was the first evening meal he was cooking for them now that Cas had figured out that they were in love with each other. Another thing he found funny was as he recalled his first ever conversation with the former angel, Hasdiel, Hasdiel had said he and his husband were having lasagna, too.

Clearly Hasdiel and his husband were in love, and having lasagna.

Dean and Castiel were also in love, and having lasagna.

Unfortunately, Dean and Castiel couldn’t have the life Hasdiel and his husband had.

Oh, great, and now Cas was sad while he was helping Dean out by stirring the mince as it cooked.

That’s exactly what Cas wanted to be after a good day. Sad. Just _great._

‘Why the long face?’ Dean asked, from his position next to Cas, where he was boiling the pasta sheets for the dish.

‘I …’ Castiel thought, sighing, but then he looked at Dean. He _looked_ at Dean, and how he felt about him blocked out the negativity and he reminded himself he could enjoy what they had for now, and be said about it later. This was no time for sadness. ‘Nothing. Jut hungry.’

‘Here, give me the wooden spoon,’ Dean suggested.

Castiel handed over the spoon he was using to push the mince around the frying pan and Dean took it, digging through the mince to find some that was already cooked which he scooped up onto the spoon and held to Cas’s mouth.

‘Eat,’ he instructed, and Cas did so. ‘Better?’

‘I ate a piece of mince smaller than my own thumb.’

‘So do you feel better or not?’

Well, it wasn’t about the hunger which he wasn’t feeling strongly, so he decided to answer truthfully, smiling to himself and trying not to laugh as he took the wooden spoon back from Dean.

‘Yes,’ Castiel replied, looking down and moving the uncooked parts of the mince to the center of the pan, ‘I feel better.’

‘See? I’m a genius. I can fix any ailment.’

‘Hunger is not an ailment.’

‘But “ailment” sounded like a better word than “problem” so it’s the one I used.’

‘You’re an idiot.’

‘But you still like me.’

Castiel looked at the jaunty grin, the fluttering eyelashes, the underlining of smugness, and he had to laugh.

‘Yes, I like you,’ he confirmed. ‘But just a little.’

‘No, you like me a lot.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘No.’

‘Yes.’

‘Cas.’

‘Dean.’

‘ _Cas_.’

‘ _Dean_ ,’

‘ _Castiel_.’

Cas leaned across the half-step between them and did that thing he’d grown fond of doing where he kissed him to shut him up. It was like their lips locked together, creating a seal, for the two seconds they were together.

‘See, that’s just proof you like me a lot.’

‘Shut up.’

‘Come on, Cas. Admit it.’

Castiel tilted his head, contemplating it, and tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the frying pan to get off any excess mince, and then whacked the side of Dean’s leg with it.

Dean raised his eyebrows and then flirtatiously whispered, ‘spank me like one of your French girls.’

‘… What?’

‘It’s a Titanic reference but I replaced “draw” with “spank” because it seemed fitting.’

‘It’s a reference to the boat Balthazar once unsank?’

‘No, it’s a reference to the movie based on it starring two of the hottest leads any movie has ever had. Dude, we should watch it!’

‘Well, tomorrow is movie night,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘Is this cooked?’

‘Yeah, that’s cooked. Okay, so we’re watching Titanic tomorrow, and after that we’re watching a completely unrelated comedy because it’s not like Titanic is sad or anything. I would suggest Liar Liar.’

‘Watch whatever you want,’ Castiel shrugged, turning off the ring with the frying an under it. ‘You’re the expert.’

‘I’ll rent them tomorrow,’ Dean decided. ‘Y’know, these strips are about done too. Get me the spaghetti strainer and put it in the sink.’

Castiel nodded and followed the instruction. After he got the strainer, he got out all of the ingredients while Dean strained the pasta strips and then he was done and free to go back over to the sofa and put on Friends while he awaited Dean’s return, Dean assembling the dish and then putting it in the oven. When Dean strutted back over to the sofa and sat down, he threw his arm around Cas and leaned their heads together, too.

After just one episode the dish was done, which was good timing, but they decided to let the second one play and just bring the entire dish over to the sofa with two forks and go at it from either end, eventually meeting in the middle and fighting for the best looking bits left, occasionally clashing their forks like swords and both of them rushing to beat the other, but eventually they finished and paused the show to do the dishes, Cas washing and Dean drying, before they returned to their watching.

As they continued to watch, they decided to occupy themselves with card and board games. Cas was improving at Scrabble and won a few times, but he wasn’t improving at Chess and continued his losing streak, proving that his one win had just been a fluke. He lost a game of Clue and won a game of Monopoly, and then stayed silent through a phone call with Sam where Dean listened to some lore on witches who excreted the black goo, and then lied his ass off about Cas.

‘He told me he’s spending the New Year in a few days with a bunch of people from work,’ Dean said when Sam asked. ‘And he promised he’d text or call both of us, so look out for that. Bet you’re sad you won’t be around him to kiss him at midnight.’

‘Maybe,’ Sam replied, ‘or are you projecting yourself onto me?’

‘I hope Kevin shaves your head in your sleep.’ Dean replied cuttingly, ignoring the question. ‘Come on, Sammy, having long hair like that is just going to give monsters something to pull on anyway.’

‘Bye, Dean.’

‘I mean, it really is time.’

‘Goodbye, Dean.’

‘I can point the guy to an electric razor. Or you if you decide to do it yourself.’

‘ _Bye_ , Dean.’

‘Later, Sammy.’

The call ended. Castiel gave Dean a funny look. Dean grinned and shrugged.

‘You’re making me out to be a very social person,’ Castiel pointed out.

‘People like you,’ Dean shrugged. ‘So they’d probably invite you to things. I know I would.’

‘Yes, but you’re you. You already know me.’

‘And why do I know you? Because I wanted to get to know you. Because I like you … just a little.’

Cas glared. Dean grinned. Cas grinned. Dean opened his arms. Cas leaned into them, and Dean upaused the TV and they continued, comfortable, shoes kicked off and legs splayed all over the place.

‘Hey, Cas?’ Dean asked suddenly between episodes, looking down at Cas who was resting against his chest.

‘Yeah?’ Castiel asked.

‘We should go out,’ Dean suggested, though decisively. ‘I know we said we’d stay in until the New Year, but we should go out. New Year’s Eve. I’ve just … been thinking about it.’

‘You mean like to a bar?’

‘No, I mean like to get food. In the evening. Somewhere … decent.’

Castiel had to take a moment to figure out what Dean meant. Until he realized that Dean meant exactly what it sounded like he meant.

It _sounded_ like Dean was asking Cas out. On like. A date.

But Cas wasn’t going to let Dean know he knew that.

‘That would be good,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Because it’s a special occasion, after all.’

‘Yeah, exactly,’ Dean agreed. ‘So … we’re doing it, then.’

‘Yes, we are.’

They fell silent and they didn’t mention it again. They went to bed that night without even giving the sofa bed a first thought.

They hadn’t had the feeling of being _domestic_ in a while, despite that being their entire lives, but the feeling floated back to them now. There was something oddly domestic about getting into the same bed at the same time with no prior discussion of the fact that they were just going to casually do so. They got in between the stuff that made up Cas’s and Dean’s beds, decided to push the extra two pillows to the floor before they got comfortable, both ending up on their sides and facing each other.

‘So,’ Dean sighed, his head on the edge of his pillow, very near Cas’s.

‘So,’ Cas stated.

‘I guess this is goodnight.’

‘I guess so.’

There was an awkward pause. And then Dean closed his eyes. So Castiel followed, and then he felt Dean’s hands start to roam up his sides, rubbing gently through his shirt. And then _under_ his shirt. Cas tried to ignore it, but honestly, what was the point, so he snapped his eyes open and closed the distance between their faces, and they kissed yet again, softly rather than viciously like the previous times they’d done what they seemed to be doing now.

Dean’s hand pressed into Cas’s side, his fingers digging into the flesh of Cas’s back and his thumb kneading circles on his side, borderlining onto his stomach. As they slipped closer together, Dean’s hand slid down to rest on Cas’s lower back and he brought his other hand up to softly rest between Cas’s cheek and the pillow his head was still mostly on.

Castiel slid one hand up Dean’s chest, over his shirt, and onto his shoulder, holding on and gripping it tightly, seeking out the contours of the muscles hidden under the shirt, his fingers craving to trace the shape. His other hand pressed together between their bodies, palming at Dean’s chest over and then under his shirt.

They moved together, pushing themselves up into a sitting position now able to get better grips on each other. Dean didn’t hesitate this time in pulling off Cas’s shirt, starting from the bottom of his back and dragging it slowly upwards and over his head, messing up his hair and getting it caught on his nose when he went to pull it off at the front, causing some distracted laughter that didn’t take away from the moment, and they seized the opportunity to pull off Dean’s shirt too, thankfully it coming off more smoothly than Cas’s had.

Their faces melded together, their lips moving and dragging over each other as if they were hungry for it, but hungry for the taste rather than for the need to fill up on it, so they moved slowly and deeply and pressing hard instead of going quickly and desperately like their times before. Their hands dragged over each others’ skin, pulling and pinching and gripping and caressing.

Dean ended up positioned over Cas’s lap, straddling him, his arms wrapped around his neck, rubbing himself against Cas’s torso, lightly rocking his hips so that he moved up and down against him. He tilted his head back as Cas ran a trail of kisses down his neck and throat and onto his chest as far as he could reach without straining his neck.

Cas’s thumbs ran around the waistband of Dean’s sweats and pulled them downwards off of his ass at the back so he could caress it while his lips explored the planes of Dean’s chest, learning as he went, discovering what felt right and what Dean seemed to like, and what felt natural to do. When he kissed directly over one of Dean’s nipples, Dean’s shoulders rolled, so he did it again, flicking his tongue over it, mimicking the way Dean had flicked his tongue over the head of Cas’s dick the other night, figuring that would feel good and it seemed to, so Cas moved onto doing the other one too, bringing up one of his hands to run his thumb over the one he’d abandoned with his mouth.

Dean leaned forward into Cas, forcing Cas farther back against the head of the bed and farther down towards his pillow, and then Dean climbed off and rolled onto his back, pushing his sweats down the rest of the way. Castiel leaned to the side where Dean was next of him and resumed what he was doing with his thumb and his fingers, and Dean grabbed one of Cas’s hands and guided his fingers, rubbing and pinching with them exactly how he liked it done.

‘You like that?’ Castiel murmured against Dean’s skin, peeking up at him under his lashes, presuming by Dean’s actions.

‘Mhm,’ Dean muttered. ‘More. Go slow.’

So Castiel did so, getting joy from doing something Dean enjoyed despite not getting anything out of it himself other than that joy and satisfaction.

When Cas could take the aching in his lower region no longer, he got out of bed and went to the closet where he got the lube and a condom and brought them back over to the bed, coating his fingers as he went getting ready to slip them inside Dean and get experimental, hooking them upwards and downwards one at a time as he slipped them in gradually, putting in no more than three at a time because four might be a little too close to that fisting thing Dean had told him about.

Dean seemed to react well whenever Cas pressed against something that seemed a little firmer than what was around it, so he tried to locate it time and time again, digging in, pressing on it, rubbing circles on it, stroking it up and down. Dean’s dick was pressed between his and Dean’s stomachs and Cas could feel it give the occasional twitch and when it began to twitch on its own almost non-stop Cas removed his three fingers.

Dean knew it was time and ripped the condom open with his teeth and put it on Cas, and then stroked him with a lube-covered hand a few times and guided him down into position, and Cas pushed in and began at a steady pace, no easing in but no pounding in this time either.

Cas looked good from an under-chin angle. Cas looked good from _every_ angle. Cas’s hands were either side of Dean, one on the pillow and one lower down on the bed, and the one that was on the bed Dean grabbed hold of and laced his fingers through it. With his other hand he reached down to Cas’s ass bobbing up and down on top of him and grabbed onto it, pinching with every thrust, their pace comfortable and prolonging, steadily going on over and over as if it would never end with stamina and gentle ease.

Dean pushed himself upwards every now and them to press kisses into Cas’s shoulder and along his arm, and Cas dragged his lips over Dean’s collarbone.

After a time Cas began to speed up all at once, going in harder and deeper and quicker, and Dean could tell he was getting close. Just that very thought, and the new sensation of the new speed, made Dean’s heart start pounding even faster than its already elevated speed and tremendous pressure built almost all at once and spilled in a glorious ache, exploding all over himself and some on Cas, completely untouched, which had only happened two or three times before in his life post-teenage years.

Cas pushed on, his eyes screwing up and his lips parting as his body felt riddled with spasms and he spilled inside Dean, weakening as he did, his elbows giving out as he fell towards him, their bodies pressing together slick with Dean’s come between them and as he rode out the last few waves he kissed Dean’s neck, sucking on it lightly until he was done, taking a moment on top of Dean to catch some of his breath back before he rolled off, back to his own side.

They joined hands again, after unjoining when Cas rolled away. Then they let go again and Dean wriggled closer to Cas and rolled on his side, pressing up against Cas’s side, Cas moving his arm to allow him to do so. When Dean was settled in, Cas nestled his arm around Dean. Dean put his hand on Cas’s chest, slid it downwards and removed Cas’s condom, which he tied one handed and tossed to the ground. He put his hand back on Cas’s chest and Cas took hold of it, joining their hands yet again, despite the mess of come and lube that was all over the two of them.

‘Three out of four,’ Dean said eventually. ‘And better every time.’

‘Better every time?’ Castiel asked. ‘For you, maybe but for me two sucked until you made it up to me.’

‘Okay, good point,’ Dean agreed. ‘But you have to admit, that was …’

‘Deeply satisfying and pleasurable?’

‘Yeah. And dude. Your tongue. Fuck, I love that thing. And your fingers. I thought I was going to die.’

‘Please don’t die,’ Castiel requested. ‘So, it seems like you enjoy having your nipples pleasured, and being touched on … I’m going to assume that was your prostate.’

‘Yes, and yes,’ Dean confirmed. ‘And you’re getting better. You already had a lot of natural talent, but man …’

‘It’s all about paying attention to you and figuring out what you like. And then giving it to you. And if there’s anything else you’d like me to do for our fourth and final time I would recommend you tell me now.’

‘We’ve already covered the basics of what I like,’ Dean shrugged against Cas. ‘The nipple thing. And I like hand holding. And I like the other person taking charge and you always seem to end up doing that. And that’s … uh … it.’

Castiel frowned. He saw Dean’s hesitance.

‘Dean, you can tell me anything.’

Dean swallowed. Castiel watched him. Dean looked up and took a deep breath.

‘Well, there’s this … one other thing. I might have done … once or twice. That I … I sorta … like.’

‘What is it?’

‘Y’know … women’s underwear?’

Castiel was momentarily thrown. At first he thought he hadn’t heard right, but he definitely had.

‘I’m … aware of women’s underwear, yes.’

‘Well this one time … this chick I was with … she sorta …’

‘Made you wear it?’ Castiel presumed.

‘How’d you guess?’

‘Because you look bashful. And you looked vaguely bashful during the episode of Friends where that woman asked Chandler to wear her underwear, too.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. So … is that it? You have a thing for women’s underwear or something?’

‘Well … I wouldn’t go out and just … put it on by myself, you understand. But if someone were to ask me to … or _tell_ me too … like I don’t have any _control_ over it … someone _dominating_ , maybe …’

‘Dean?’ Castiel asked slowly.

‘Yeah?’

‘Next time we have sex, I want you to wear women’s underwear.’

‘You do?’ Dean asked eagerly, playing along after his hint dropping.

‘Yes. And you have no choice in the matter.’

‘So are you saying we need to go out and buy some tomorrow? And that they have to be pink? And silky?’

‘I thought you said we weren’t going out for anything other than things we _have_ to do until the new year?’

‘But you said I _have_ to wear panties. So technically it’s something we have to do.’

‘Okay, that’s true. Then … yes. I’m saying we need to go out and buy some tomorrow.’

Dean grinned and pushed himself up on his elbow, and then dipped down to kiss Cas.

‘You know, if we were actually together I’d be calling you the best boyfriend ever right about now.’

‘And I would be thanking you for calling me that.’

‘You sure you’re cool with this? With my thing for the panties?’ Dean probed. ‘Because if you’re not, it’s cool. Not everyone is into it.’

‘I won’t know until I try,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘And I like the thought of you in women’s underwear. They’re very … tight. And revealing. They way they’re cut, at the legs and everything. They don’t look like they have a lot of room in them.’

‘No, they don’t,’ Dean agreed, ‘and that’s all part of the fun.’

‘Well then I’ll do my best to maximize that fun for you. For our last time.’

‘Yeah,’ Dean agreed, smiling down at him. ‘Our last time.’ He sighed. ‘We’re a mess.’

‘And who’s fault is that?’

‘Yours,’ Dean sad blatantly. ‘Okay – it may be my mess, but you caused it. So it’s _your_ fault. ‘

‘… Let’s clean up.’

Dean laughed, having defeated Cas, and scooted across the bed to climb off, Cas doing the same thing on his side. They walked into the bathroom together, and Dean grabbed a towel and dampened it, cleaning Cas off first while Cas washed his hands, then Dean moved on to cleaning himself up while Cas dabbed down his dick with some toilet tissue, washed his hands again and splashed his face, dried off and left.

When Dean left the bathroom, Cas was in bed, shirt and sweats back on, covered up to just above his waist, laying on his side facing Dean as he came out.

‘I like coming out and seeing you waiting for me,’ Dean commented. ‘You make every room look more welcoming.’

‘I’m not welcoming,’ Castiel joked, turning on his back as Dean walked along the end of the bed, then onto his other side as Dean walked up his side. ‘Get out.’

‘Hilarious,’ Dean said flatly. ‘You don’t look welcoming anymore, with your arms open like that.’

Dean slid into bed, and right into Cas’s arms, reveling in the closeness and drawing in Cas’s scent, mingled with his own which smelled so much better on Cas.

‘So unwelcoming,’ Castiel agreed, his lips against Dean’s forehead, kissing and mumbling against it. ‘I don’t want you anywhere near my bed. I don’t want my arms anywhere close to you. Please leave and never come back.’

‘Oh yeah, I definitely will,’ Dean promised, slipping his own arms around Cas and pulling him tightly against his chest. ‘Being around you makes me feel sick to my stomach. You’re the most vile creature I’ve ever met.’

‘I think I just threw up in my mouth a little at the sound of your voice. I can’t endure you for one more second.’

‘Don’t like you at all.’

‘No, I don’t like you either.’

They were getting tired, now. Eyelids heavy, voices lowering and quietening, their words slurring together as they mumbled them while barely moving their lips.

‘G’night, Cas,’ Dean said with a sleepy sigh. ‘L’ve you.’

Castiel’s heart turned to ice in his chest.

‘Goodnight,’ he replied.

 _I love you_ , he wanted to whisper back, but he couldn’t bring himself to cause Dean the pain of knowing that someone so undeserving of his love loved him back.

Thankfully, in the morning, Dean remembered nothing of his admission.

Dean woke up first. It was his thing. Dean just generally woke up first, because Cas was a heavy sleeper and seemed to enjoy sleep at that. With a groan and a sigh, Dean made to start his day, collecting the used condom and discarded wrapper form the floor to put in the trash in the bathroom which they hadn’t done last night, and taking the towel they’d used to clean off to the laundry basket in the closet.

The hot water of his shower loosened any clenched or tightened muscles that had clamped back up after relaxing the night before, and helped clear his head of morning fogginess. He couldn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep, or what he’d been doing or saying when he had, but he did remember something about him and Cas insulting each other for a while. He hoped he hadn’t said anything too harsh, or something that Cas could take the wrong way. Nah, he wouldn’t have, would he?

Although when he got out of the bathroom and saw Cas wasn’t in the bed and it was made neatly, Dean began to worry and dressed quickly, rushing out into the main room to find Cas in the kitchen making toaster waffles, enough to serve both of them.

‘You didn’t have to,’ Dean said softly, his heart starting to warm as he approached Cas with his arms semi-open.

‘I was hungry,’ Castiel shrugged, ‘and I figured it wouldn’t be polite to make some for me but not for you. Good morning.’

‘Morning,’ Dean grinned at him, as Cas stepped into his half-open arms. He kissed him, nice and simple and casual and soft, before stepping back. ‘I used the last of the shampoo so I put out a new bottle, so don’t squeeze too hard when you’re using it.’

‘Noted,’ Castiel nodded. ‘Thank you. I made coffee.’

‘Thank _you_ ,’ Dean corrected, pouring himself a cup at once, and one for Cas too.

Castiel shrugged. Their morning commenced as usual.

They decided to go out panty shopping after lunch, and spent the time leading up to lunch playing Chess and watching a few episodes of Friends. They had lunch in a casual café and had some burgers and shared a plate of cheesy fries, and then they went back to the mall they shopped at for all non-grocery purchases and located the first clothing store they could find, not exactly in the market for some super expensive lingerie to be bought in a specialty shop. It was easy to locate the women’s section due to the sheer number of bras hanging on the walls, so they wandered over and began looking around.

There were packs of casual cotton panties, and there were individual cotton panties with prints referencing cartoons and franchises, and then there were the panties hanging on the walls with the matching bras. Some were just casual little cotton things, like a light pink cotton ones with a black lace trim with the bra to match, or the plain colored sets in black and white and beige, and then there were the raunchier things.

So, it was a no to thongs and a no too the pure lace, but there were satiny and silky ones in this section and it was a big yes to those. Dean was very tempted by some blue ones the color of Cas’s eyes, and he was tempted by some purple too, but pink was where it at, dark, hot pink and not that baby pink color he saw next to his target pair.

Dean didn’t want to admit he already knew his size. He just pretended he was taking a lucky guess when he told it to Cas, and Cas took them off the shelf and went to the counter to pay, Dean trailing behind, suddenly looking embarrassed; he was fine with _Cas_ knowing his secret kinks and desires, but what would everyone else in the store think of two men buying one single pair of panties?

But thankfully no one commented, or maybe no one cared, as they left with their purchase in a bag swinging from Cas’s hand as he and Dean left, Dean’s hand in Cas’s free one.

As they passed by the bathrooms on the way to the exit, Castiel stopped.

‘Go put them on,’ he instructed.

‘What?’

‘Go put them on,’ Castiel repeated.

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so. And so I know, when I see you in them later, that you’ll have been wearing them for hours and you and I are the only ones who know about it.’

Dean glanced around, and then he grinned, snatching the bag out of Cas’s hand and then vanishing. When he returned, he handed the bag back over and Cas glanced in: the dark blue underwear Dean had been wearing earlier that Cas had gotten a glance of after a game of Chess where Dean jested him for losing, so Cas said ‘fuck you’ and Dean said ‘if you insist,’ undid his belt and slid down his pants a little until Cas glared at him and told them to pull them back up.

‘Can I see?’ Castiel asked.

Dean looked around again and lifted his shirt and pulled down the waistband of his jeans just enough for Cas to see what he was wearing. It sent a thrill of excitement through Cas to know that Dean was wearing something that didn’t fit his outward appearance in the slightest, and seemed to be a social taboo for a man to wear. He thought of Dean inside them, rubbing against the silky satin insides with every step he took, and he wanted to grind up against that satin covered bulge until he could see dark spots of come leaking through those damn panties and oh look, now he had his arms around Dean’s neck in a rather bold public display of affection and neither he nor Dean appeared to give a fuck.

When they turned to leave, instead of holding Dean’s hand, Cas slid his hand into Dean’s back pocket and he could feel the fabric of Dean’s jeans slide against the fabric he wore beneath. This was going to be a very, very good day for him, and it would be very hard to keep his hands off of Dean until night fell.

 Cas did not last until night fell.

Cas ended up roughly fucking Dean in the back of the Impala parked in an alley next to a convince store near the mall, using some sample lube bought in there and a condom from the dispenser in the bathroom.

‘This doesn’t count,’ Dean insisted, on his hands and knees with his jeans and panties barely down below his ass, ‘I didn’t bring this one with me. We still have one more in the pack I brought with me that we have to use.’

‘I know,’ Cas said, frantically pumping his fingers in and out of Dean to prep him, desperate to get inside him _now_ , ‘I never thought this counted in the first place.’

‘Good,’ Dean breathed harshly, ‘I don’t want our last time to be in an al– _fuck_.’

‘What was that?’ Castiel asked, teasingly.

‘ _Fuck_ ,’ Dean choked out as Cas’s fingers curled inside him. ‘Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ me.’

Castiel obliged. It was a rough and quick session which resulted in Dean coming all over the back seat and almost kneeling in it, and then Cas had to be the one to drive them home because Dean couldn’t sit directly down because that lube had been shitty and his ass was throbbing but he didn’t care, all he cared about was leaning most of his weight on his tailbone and trying to avoid his spray of jizz.

‘I’ll have to clean the car,’ Dean complained to Cas from the back seat as they headed on route to the apartment building.

‘You probably have cleaning supplies in the trunk,’ Castiel brushed off. ‘Don’t tell me it was your first time doing that.’

‘Third with a man,’ Dean listed. ‘Usually I don’t get to have men in the car for that often. And as for women? Lost count. Yeah, there’s stuff in the trunk.’

‘Knew it,’ Castiel muttered.

When they approached their building, Cas was forced to slow down, because parked outside were police cars.

‘The fuck?’ Dean asked.

‘Oh fuck,’ Cas stated.

There was a cop guarding the entrance to the parking lot and they checked IDs and crossed their names off of a list of people in the building yet to be accounted for.

‘Tenth floor is off limits, interviews going on up there, but there’s nothing to worry about,’ the cop assured the two of them. ‘The building’s been searched and it’s secure.’

‘What happened?’ Dean asked from the back seat, having thrown his jacket over the telltale mess.

‘An attack,’ the cop explained. ‘No death this time. The attacker thought the victim was alone, but the partner came out holding a mannequin and hit the attacker over the head with it.’

‘And where’s the attacker now?’ Castiel asked.

‘She got away,’ the cop replied. ‘We’re searching the grounds, but the building is secure.’

Dean and Cas drove into the parking lot and Dean got out to cleaning stuff to clean off the back seat, but his jacket wasn’t salvageable and would need to be washed.

‘How the hell did she get into the apartment?’ Dean wondered out loud. ‘There’s hex bags protecting all of them. I don’t understand.’

‘Maybe … whoever lives in the apartment … threw it away?’ Castiel asked, watching Dean cleaning.

‘Fuck,’ Dean groaned. ‘Fucking idiots. And rude, too. You don’t just throw a gift away.’

‘The tenth floor,’ Castiel muttered, on a different note. ‘And the attacker was hit with a mannequin. You don’t think …?’

‘Oh shit,’ Dean muttered. ‘Mannequin. Mannequin from the drag room, maybe?’

‘We should keep an ear out.’

‘Yeah. And let’s be glad no one was killed this time.’

‘I agree,’ Castiel nodded, sighing.

He remembered that this witch had targeted him with a “GOD HATES YOU.” and “God hates you, Castiel.” So why hadn’t it attacked _him_ yet?

‘You okay?’ Dean asked, sensing Cas’s sudden silence and fall in his mood.

‘Fine,’ Castiel replied, nodding stiffly. ‘I’m going to take your jacket upstairs and put it in the laundry. I’ll empty the pockets first.’

‘I won’t be far behind you,’ Dean promised.

Castiel left and Dean half-watched him until he couldn’t see him anymore.

Just one more wipe down and he was done too, so he took the disposable rag, the used condom and the discarded wrapper and of course the extremely shitty lube and threw them all in the dumpster on his way to the elevator. The throbbing in his ass was beginning to subside as he entered the elevator and took it to the fourth floor, to find Cas in the apartment already making a snack.

‘Yes, please,’ Dean greeted, so Cas got out more bread and started making Dean a sandwich too.

‘Is it clean?’ Castiel asked.

‘Just like new,’ Dean confirmed.

‘And is your ass okay?’

‘Not exactly new,’ Dean cringed as he sat on the sofa. ‘More like … lightly used.’

‘ _Lightly_?’

‘You have to say lightly. Otherwise no one’s going to buy it.’

‘I’ll buy it,’ Castiel stated. ‘I’ll give you three dollars for it.’

‘Excuse you. I’m worth so much more than three dollars.’

‘Okay. Two dollars.’

‘You’re not supposed to go _down_.’

‘My apologies. I’ll refrain from ever giving you a blowjob, then.’

‘Shut up,’ Dean muttered. ‘So you’re okay? You seemed to have a little … moment. Down by the car.’

‘I was thinking thoughts that occasionally cross my mind that I’d rather not think about,’ Castiel replied coolly, bringing the sandwiches over to the coffee table and then going back for the drinks. ‘Or talk about, for that matter.’

‘Then we won’t,’ Dean promised while Cas sit next to him. ‘And after we eat this I’ll go out and grab those two movies. And maybe some tissues to wipe the tears I cry over Kate Winslet because she’s really hot.’

‘You know, when a man is making you wear panties and has already fucked you once while you’re wearing them and you’re planning to do something more later, it’s not very nice to start talking about how hot some woman is.’

Dean paused halfway through picking up his sandwich.

‘Okay,’ he said carefully, ‘good point. Cas, you’re hot.’

‘Better,’ Castiel approved.

They ate their sandwiches and put the TV on as background noise, but there was nothing much on. When they finished, Dean brought their dishes over to the sink and then went into the bedroom to grab his other jacket and grabbed his phone, keys and wallet.

‘I won’t be long,’ Dean promised. ‘As usual.’

‘Bring me back some ice cream,’ Castiel requested. ‘We didn’t get any yesterday.’

‘Ice cream. Got it. Anything else?’

‘Pull down your pants. Just for a second.’

Rolling his eyes, Dean obliged, causing Castiel to smirk. Shit. _Shit_. Those things were tight and revealing and Cas’s hand felt like a claw ready to fly across the room and grip on but he somehow managed to stay still despite every instinct telling him otherwise. He couldn’t place exactly what it was that made him feel so aroused he could practically feel it shooting up his entire body, fogging his head and putting pressure behind his eyes, but he knew it was something. Something about the idea of Dean in panties. Just. Like. Fuck. It wasn’t even the panties themselves, they were just a flimsy piece of fabric, but on _Dean_ …

Fuck.

‘Go,’ said Cas, having to turn away because his vision was becoming clouded and his breath was heavy in his chest.  ‘Just … go.’

He could practically feel Dean’s smirk. Was it possible to _feel_ someone’s smirk?

Castiel relaxed once the door was closed behind him.

He almost flung himself through the door in a way that would leave a very cartoonish Castiel shaped hole behind, just to get to Dean.

But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He had to make tonight … something he would never forget, and something Dean would find hard to forget too.

It was their _last time_.

Their absolute last time.

Ever.

And the they went back to just being friends who … what? Slept in the same bed but didn’t do anything else? Or friends who slept in the same bed, kissed sometimes, but didn’t have sex? Because they’d established the bed sharing thing was pretty permeant even if they didn’t vocalize it.

Cas didn’t know what was going to happen next. He didn’t care right away. What he cared about was opening up Dean’s laptop and beginning to search more ways to bring about the most pleasure possible, and he was going to apply all of those things to what he and Dean were going to do, and he was going to take control and be confident and rough and as Dean liked to say, _dominant_.

He just hoped Dean didn’t come back before his research was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live in a land of smut, I live in a land that is good. 
> 
> Also, if anyone's interested, I've decided I'm going to try start using my Twitter more. Right now it's mostly just my Tumblr posts (aka reblogs). My Twitter is MurderousQueenR and my Tumblr is MurderousQueen, and if anyone's interested and feels like sending me a message for whatever reason, my kik is rosearitywin. Just if anyone wants the option unless you're the government watching me in which case Donald Trump is welcome at my house any time and no of course I'm not just saying that to lure you into a trap and shove a knife through your neck, Mr Trump. 
> 
> Cross my blackened heart.


	25. Relationship

Cas was on the sofa when Dean got back, shoes off, legs up, nose in his book. Dean put the movies on the kitchen table, shrugged off his jacket and grabbed a spoon from the kitchen, sauntering his way over to where Cas lounged.

‘Oh no, not these smelly old things again,’ Dean joked as he lifted Cas’s feet. ‘Ever heard of washing your socks?

‘Yes, I have,’ Castiel replied. ‘In fact, I’m washing all of mine now. These are yours; when did you last wash them, two years ago, was it?’

‘Shut up,’ Dean muttered. ‘They’re your fucking socks.’

‘Well if they’re mine, they smell like laundry detergent mixed with the soap I washed my feet with when I showered this morning, and the insides of my shoes which are perfectly clean thank you very much.’

Castiel read on. He hadn’t even so much as glanced at Dean when he was stinging him with sass. Dean watched him for a moment.

‘Not even a smile, huh?’ he asked.

Castiel lowered his book, gave Dean the most adorable smile, then went stony faced again as he read. Dean frowned, opening Cas’s ice cream, and he began to eat it with the spoon he’d brought for Cas. He relaxed back into the sofa with a sigh.

‘So that’s how you feel like playing it, huh?’ Dean asked. ‘Okay, then. I won’t tell you about the wedgie I got after driving that I had to pull out.’

 _That_ lowered Cas’s book, and then closed it too.

‘And?’

‘Couldn’t get a good grip on it through my jeans because of the material, so I had to shove my hand down my pants,’ Dean sad offhandedly, licking the spoon. ‘Then my dick fell out so I had to fix _that_ issue. And there’s not a lot of ball room in these, so I’m dealing with that too.’

‘If you’re finding it hard to find a place to keep your balls, you could always just put them in my mouth for safe keeping.’

Dean dropped the spoon.

‘What?’

‘Just a suggestion,’ Castel shrugged. ‘You dropped your spoon.’

‘I fucking know that,’ Dean replied, flustered. ‘I … I just … Jesus Christ, Cas. You can’t just say things like that with no warning or you’re going to fucking give me a heart attack.’

‘Sorry,’ Castiel replied, a spark in his eye, looking anything _but_ sorry. ‘Your spoon is still on the floor.’

Dean reached over Cas’s legs and down to the ground to pick it up. He put it back in the ice cream and had another spoon full, swallowing while trying not to think about his balls in Cas’s mouth. Fucking shit.

‘Give me some,’ Castiel commended from his relaxed position.

Dean got some ice cream on the spoon and held it towards Cas’s mouth, and then shoved it on Cas’s nose instead.

‘Oh, look,’ Dean said lightly, ‘you have shit on your nose.’

The flavor was chocolate, Cas’s favorite.

‘Then you should have showered,’ Castiel replied, wiping his nose and licking his palm where the ice cream had come off on it.

Dean had to turn away to hide his sudden, hot blush, handing over the tub and the spoon wordlessly to a smug looking Cas.

‘Am I making you uncomfortable?’ Castiel asked slyly.

‘No,’ Dean replied stiffly, lying through his teeth.

‘Listen, Dean,’ said Cas, swinging his legs off of Dean and onto the floor so he was in a regular seating position. He moved up to sit right next to Dean, thighs touching, and fixed Dean with the cutest yet naughtiest puppy-dog look. ‘I’m sorry. I truly, truly, am. I wouldn’t want you to, to use a phrase I’ve heard thrown around, _get your panties in a bunch_.’

Dean closed his eyes and breathed carefully.

‘You don’t intimidate me,’ he said slowly, not believing himself when he spoke. ‘You don’t. I’m fine. I’m going to grab the food menus and in a half hour we can order. I’m _fine_.’

Dean turned his head and pulled the spoon out of Cas’s mouth, grabbed himself some ice cream, ate it, refilled the spoon and then put it back in Cas’s mouth where he’d gotten it. Then he stood up and walked unsteadily away.

‘You should answer the door to the delivery person without pants again,’ Castiel suggested to Dean’s retreating back. ‘You can wear a robe this time, but it has to be open.’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ Dean muttered, half-laughing because he thought Cas was just messing around with him.

‘I’m not,’ Castiel replied. ‘And if you don’t do it, I’m not going to fuck you.’

‘Go get me my robe,’ Dean instructed, whipping around and already undoing his pants as he stood at the menu drawer.

When Castiel returned, Dean’s jeans were folded on the counter and his shoes were off and on the floor, and he was standing there, panties on full display. Tight. Bulging. Like they had been, under his jeans for hours, yet Dean was just casually looking through menus.

‘I feel like burgers tonight,’ Dean commented when he heard Cas’s approach. ‘Nothing spicy. Nothing too heavy. Seems pretty safe.’

‘Don’t get onions,’ Castiel encouraged. ‘Breath, you know.’

‘Good thinking,’ Dean nodded. ‘Did you get my –’

Dean stopped talking when he felt Cas cupping him through his panties. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before looking at Cas’s face, which was perfectly calm and weirdly innocent, clearly false, because Dean could see the wickedness lurking beneath the surface of those fucking blue eyes.

Cas released and Dean felt blood start to pool downwards beyond his control, straining against the fabric making him semi-hard. He had to close his eyes again to regain his composure as he accepted the robe Cas handed him silently. He slipped it on and handed Cas the menu.

‘You know what I want. Order.’

Dean turned to walk away, but Cas tugged on his robe again to make him turn and face him. Castiel stepped close, pressing their bodies together, reaching around under Dean’s robe to cup his ass in both hands and squeeze. Dean tried to keep his excitement from showing and swallowed unsteadily. Part of him was wondering where this side of Cas had come from. Part of him assumed Cas was just applying his dominant badass-ness to another field. Most of him didn’t care either way.

Cas kissed him in a way that made him want to blush, and then ran one of his hands around over Dean’s hip, trailing a single finger down to the semi-hard bulge in the front of Dean’s panties and it became more than just a semi, breaking free of the satin that held it back making Cas frown in disapproval.

‘Calm yourself, Dean,’ he encouraged, taking hold of Dean’s dick and tucking it back inside as best he could, causing the fabric to strain against it, pushing the waistband out. ‘We still have two movies to watch. We have takeout to order and eat. We wouldn’t want to do things too quickly and waste it, would we?’

The way Cas was talking … Dean could barely look at him, and his face was hot, and Cas was almost making Dean feel ashamed of his arousal, so he looked down and mumbled, ‘no’ in an adorably small voice that made Cas grab hold of his face and kiss him softly.

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Now go put on an episode of Friends to watch while we wait for the food to arrive.’

Castiel pulled the robe closed and tied it, letting Dean walk away.

Cas ordered the food, and once he had he went over to the couch to sit next to Dean he undid Dean’s robe again and Dean internally groaned because he’d only just gotten himself back under control. But Cas was reasonably innocent, pulling off Dean’s flannel but leaving his t-shirt before he retied the robe, and then he pulled off his socks too, went over and grabbed Dean’s jeans and shoes, took them all into the bedroom and came back out with Dean’s slippers, which he dropped at Dean’s feet. Dean put them on obediently.

Cas finally settled into the sofa next to Dean and Dean looked at him to see what he was going to do next, but he didn’t do anything for a moment, until he extended his arm over the back of the sofa allowing Dean to get closer to his side. He settled his arm around Dean’s shoulders and Dean rested his head against Cas’s.

Dean kept his hands folded in his lap throughout most of the episode, over his crotch as if to … shield it from something it didn’t need shielding from. About three minutes before the end of the episode, there was a knock at the door, and Dean felt a sinking sense of déjà vu only this time he felt even more bashful, with a hint of excitement. He stood up and Cas untied his robe, pulled it apart and allowed it to hang almost closed, but with a peek of what was underneath showing through. Then he pointed at the door, sat back, and relaxed.

Dean’s legs felt like lead, but he wanted to please Cas, whatever Cas’s reason may have been, so he strode as confidently as he could to get the money, and then answer the door. A flutter of nerves even stronger crept through when he saw the delivery person was female, but he acted natural and if she saw what was under his robe she didn’t comment. Dean put the food down on the table once the job was done, heart pounding, and turned to see Cas walking towards him.

‘Maybe I should have opened your robe wider,’ Castiel mused, taking hold of the robe Dean was wearing while Dean stared at him in wonder and adoration and desperation and please just fuck me now I’m fucking begging you.

‘Maybe,’ Dean replied, his mouth dry. ‘Oh well. Too late now.’

Castiel smiled, pulling Dean’s robe down off of his shoulders and dropping it to the floor. He looked at Dean, focusing on his eyes, slowly sliding a hand onto Dean’s (face) cheek.

‘You’re cute,’ he decided. ‘Have I ever told you that?’

‘No,’ Dean said carefully. ‘But man. Oh man. You’re hot. You’re really hot.’

Castiel smirked. Dean died. So, the usual.

‘You should pull out the bed,’ Cas suggested. ‘I’m going to change and I’ll bring the things to put on it.’

Dean nodded obediently, licking his lips as he did to moisten them after how dry they’d gotten. Castiel kissed some of that moisture away, making Dean feel light headed.

Then Cas grabbed Dean’s fallen robe, turned away and disappeared into the bedroom, leaving Dean alone, exposed and feeling weirdly enthralled with Cas’s charge-taking manor. Damn, that guy really was making the most of this being their last time thing, and he was doing everything Dean had ever hoped he would do when taking charge, which he’d thought about in his deepest, darkest, filthiest fantasies for years.

Dean rushed to set up the bed and close the curtains, then he set up the DVD too as he awaited Cas’s return which came soon after, the two of them setting up the bed, complete with the blanket they’d originally bought for this purpose, which would go under the covers so they could actually feel it and it wasn’t just basically decoration like it would be on top.

They climbed under it all in the darkness, the fire on thanks to Cas who’d remembered it last minute, and so they began watching Titanic, food on the bed between them … for about a half hour until they’d finished their food, Cas making Dean take the empty food wrappers to the trash while he watched him carefully. And then once there was nothing between them, Dean was free to wrap his arms around Cas and get up against his side, pressing his crotch right into his thigh, hooking a leg over Cas’s. Cas put his arm around Dean, and ignored the casual, sneaky little movements Dean made against his leg every ten minutes or so.

After a while they ended up on their backs just laying side by side, shoulders and legs touching. Cas seemed to be enjoying the movie and Dean was enjoying it as he usually did but totally only for the hot people he was not invested or interested in the story at all hahaha nope nope nope nope okay maybe just a little tiny bit but damn, Rose and Jack were damn perfect for each other and it was a story that really hit hard with him because he was Jack, undeserving and lower class while Cas was Rose, strong, beautiful, powerful and unobtainable.

Shit. He’d never thought about that before. Well, first time for everything.

Dean wished he could draw so he could draw Cas naked.

Dean wished he and Cas could have sex in the back of a car – oh wait.

And then he felt Cas’s hand at the waistband of his panties and fucking froze and for all he knew they could have been watching The Happy Little Elves because all he was concentrating on was Cas’s hand fucking sliding into his panties and palming at him, fingers tracing over the head of his dick, now his finger and thumb, pinching it, jesus fuck and tHEN HE FUCKING TOOK HIS HAND OUT THAT FUCING ASSHOLE AND HE LEFT DEAN THERE ABANDONED AND DIDN’T EVEN FUCKING ACKOWLLEDGE IT WHAT THE FUCK.

So Dean, mildly pissed, turned his back on Cas, wrapped his arms around his pillow which he put his head on, bent his knees up and got cozy, leaving some space between him and Cas, as he kept his head slightly angled so he could still see the TV.

AAANDD THEN CAS WAS FIDLING AT THE BACK OF HIS PANTIES WELL FUCK.

It was nothing much at first. Cas just slid his hand in and rested it there, warm against Dean’s skin. But then his fingers began to trace lines and circles in the soft flesh of Dean’s ass cheeks, and one of them slipped _between_ them and suddenly Cas’s middle finger was probing at Dean’s dry hole and the tip, just up as far as the bottom of the nail, was in, unmoving, just present. He knew Cas wasn’t going to move it; it was nearly impossible without lube in this position, and stupid without lube in _any_ position, but it was just there, unmoving, until it wasn’t and Cas had fucking abandoned him again so Dean sulkily scooted farther away from him and then glanced at him, and again Cas showed no sign of anything.

Dean soon tired of sulking so he turned back to Cas and pressed against him and Cas held him as if nothing had even happened until the end of the movie, which they both managed to get through tearlessly but Dean could’ve sworn he felt Cas’s grip on him tighten a little until the movie ended.

And so followed the completely different dynamic of Liar Liar, which Cas made Dean put on, Dean making sure to walk as slowly and carefully as he could while he did.

Liar Liar being shorter and funnier was much easier to watch and got a lot of laughs out of the two of them, and there were very few sexual distractions from the movie apart from when sex was mentioned in the actual movie which actually was pretty regularly and every time it was Cas’s hands seemed to wander to touch Dean somewhere here or there, even if it was just a graze up his shirt, tracing the outline of the anatomy of his torso.

As soon as the movie ended, thankfully on a much happier note than Titanic had, Cas grabbed the remote control and shut the TV off, and in the next second he had pounced on Dean and was devouring his mouth as he’d planned to all day; feigning casual disinterest despite some business going on beneath the sheets, and as soon as all distractions had ended, he was on it.

Dean was rather startled but was thinking _fucking finally_ all at once as he caught Cas by the waist and slipped his hands around to his lower back, under his shirt. Cas hovered over him, hands on the pillow under Dean’s head, sliding down onto Dean’s shoulders where he began to pull Dean up into a sitting position and once Dean was up, he pulled him to the edge of the bed and Dean got the gist; they were getting up, heading to the bedroom, and he was about to stand up after Cas did when he found himself being pulled up and he automatically locked his legs around Cas’s waist and his arms around as neck as he was whirled roughly around, fast enough to make his head spin had his eyes been open, then he felt several harsh steps and his back was suddenly against the wall and his shirt was being pulled up between him and the wall, which felt cold against his skin when the shirt was off, discarded behind them, and then they were moving again and his back hit the bedroom door, and then the bed, bouncing back towards the pillows after he was thrown down and then Cas was on him again, hands moving harshly like a fire blazing rapidly through woods.

Dean liked being handled roughly, but he also liked being handled delicately like he was when Cas was slowly tracing wet, sloppy kisses down his chest in a way he really didn’t understand where Cas had learned to do, which generally he thought about most things Cas did when it came to this, but wherever he’d learned it Dean sent thousands and thousands kudos. Cas went all the way down his body right down to his waistband, ran his _fucking tongue_ along the skin just above it and then went back up to begin sucking lightly on Dean’s neck, and then not so lightly, and Dean was pretty fucking sure he was going to end up with a hickey and he was almost certain Cas knew exactly what he was fucking doing.

Castiel feathered the area he’d sucked with kisses and brought them down to Dean’s chest where he made some hickey-like but not so heavy impressions before he moved down to the nipples, clearly not having forgotten what Dean liked, mimicking what Dean had showed him to do the night before, alternating between rough an soft; a pinch followed by a gentle flick of his tongue then a roll of his thumb, then his thumb pressing down until those damn nipples were perkier than they’d ever been, and hard, too, almost as hard as his dick was, straining his panties and popping out every few seconds only to be tucked away again by Cas because Cas was cruel and he fucking hated him and he loved him and he adored him and he needed him and he ached for him but despite the speed Cas was going at, he was still focused above the belt and fully fucking clothed, or as fully clothed as you could call it when only wearing two items of clothing.

It was like Cas was trying to map out every part of Dean’s body and his hands were fucking everywhere, stroking and smoothing his shoulders and his arms and then gripping and harshly tracing them, and then doing the same thing with his lips and the soft lips, harsh stubble rubbing him, not even on a pleasure point, but a feeling he never wanted to end. And then they found all the tender spots too, like below his earlobes and right up under the jaw and near his Adam’s apple.

He drew his mouth over every plane of Dean’s stomach, following its movements when it hitched or when Dean’s spine bent upward, and he dragged his lips over Dean’s hipbones, making Dean remember wishing he’d had more time to focus on _Cas’s_ hip bones because those things were fucking prominent and he wanted them to honestly stab him.

Cas got _so fucking close_ to delving under the waistband again … and then he didn’t. He pressed his lips against the _outside_ of the fucking fabric, and then he went down to Dean’s thighs and fucking _licked_ down the insides, something Dean wished he could do to Cas because Cas’s thighs were thick as fuck and Dean wanted them to strangle him to death just in case the stabbing with the hipbone didn’t do the job.

Cas kissed back up where he’d licked down and ran his fingers around the leg bands of the panties but instead of pushing his fingers inside he let the bands snap back, stinging, while he shuffled to position himself over Dean’s crotch and began rubbing himself, through his sweats, against the bulge there, lightly beginning some dry humping which he abandoned in favor of perching himself there comfortably and pulling off his shirt, after which he grabbed Dean’s head and began to pull him up and Dean began to devour everything he could reach on Cas like a man starved for weeks, grabbing onto Cas’s waist for leverage so he didn’t fall back, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin covering Cas’s ribs and upper stomach and then his chest, licking over Cas’s nipples the way Cas had done to him, then moving onto Cas’s neck acting like he was about to fucking eat it.

When Dean moved onto grazing his tongue and teeth over Cas’s collarbone, Cas shoved him back down and Dean whimpered, not for the first time. His moans had been laced with desperate whimpers the whole time and he ached all over, for Cas, and he was almost at begging point by now and he was being fucking tortured and he wasn’t able to do anything about it.

Just like he’d fantasized about.

And he submitted to it, looking up into Cas’s blazing eyes desperately, wordlessly, blinking and fluttering his lashes trying to communicate through that while Cas pulled off his sweats and shimmed up Dean’s body, naked now, dragging himself along Dean’s chest and Dean moved his arms out of the way of Cas’s legs and then lifted his head to reach out his tongue and run it over the head of Cas’s dick when it reached him, taking the head in his mouth as soon as he could and momentarily distracting Cas from delivering and tricking him into receiving and rocking his hips back and forth to fuck lightly into Dean’s mouth, barely more than the head in there, sticky with pre-come and spit when he pulled away, scooted backwards and wiped Dean’s chin for him where spit strings fell onto it, and then he kissed him again and felt how slick and moist his perfect fucking lips were.

Surely, surely it was time for the ass stuff to start. Right?

Bitch, you thought.

Nope.

‘Turn over,’ Castiel commanded.

‘Cas,’ Dean whispered, his voice breaking, ‘please.’

‘Turn. Over.’

‘ _Cas_ …’

‘Turn _over_ ,’ Castiel snarled, grabbing hold of Dean’s hips and attempting to flip him, so Dean obliged with a desperate groan.

Cas grabbed Dean’s waist, dragging him up onto his hands and knees, Cas on his knees behind him.

 _Now,_ right? Dean was hanging out of his panties and so hard he thought his dick was going to explode if any more blood rushed to it, and for the first time Cas wasn’t tucking him back in, but there was still nothing. Dean reached a hand to grab onto himself to give himself _something_ there but Cas was too fast and gripped his hands, pinning them to the bed while Cas ran feverish kisses along Dean’s spine followed by tongue trails, then he let go of Dean’s hands and finally, at long fucking last, plunged a hand down the back of Dean’s panties and pressed a dry thumb against Dean’s hole, rubbing over it and pushing the tip into it, removing it just as quickly and then after a thousand fucking years of this fucking torture he pulled down the back of Dean’s panties and put his thumb back in, but now it was moistened with spit. He twisted it a half turn and pulled it back out, pulling Dean’s cheeks apart just like the first time and giving a few quick, slow and lingering licks, dipping his tongue inside only once, then he was fingering the outside again, grabbing one ass cheek so tightly it was like his fingers were about to sink right down into the flesh like into play dough.

Cas _finally_ got off the bed and went to the closet and Dean stayed still, and he _finally_ lubed up and put the tip of his index finger in …

For a second.

He ran his finger back and forth over the hole again and rubbed out some circles on it before unexpectedly pushing his index finger in almost knuckle deep, as far as he’d discovered Dean could comfortably take in their previous encounters; Dean wasn’t an endless tube and he had many contours up there, and he could take whole fingers pretty well, but when fucking going balls deep wasn’t an option.

It seemed like there was just one finger in there for about a week before that one fucking finger finally touched on his prostate and began to run on it back and forth rapid and quick making Dean’s breathing even more rapid than it already was, and then it was just one finger playing with his prostate for a month before a second was added and some light scissoring began, stretching, the two fingers tugging their way apart and around in circles together, making sure Dean was very open before a third was added, the three of them flexing as if beckoning inside Dean’s ass.

There was a pause and Dean heard the tearing open of the condom, some slick sounds, and then there was nothing.

Until there was.

Cas finally began to slow down his violently fast yet evilly slow torture when he pushed in, allowing time for Dean to adjust and relax, before he sank in as far as was instinctively right for him, and as far as he’d previously discovered was comfortable for Dean, who he wanted to torture but not injure.

He had a lot of control here on his knees, so he tried to angle himself so that he was pushing in the general direction of the prostate in attempt to drag the head over it on every slow thrust, and right by it on every fast one, alternating speeds and occasionally pulling out to finger Dean’s hole again. When he got to a steady, quick pace, he reached forward with one hand and grabbed Dean’s shoulder and sought out one of Dean’s clenched fists with the others, offering a hand to hold because he knew that was something Dean liked, and Dean was clutching on as hard as woman who was in severe pain giving birth, because Dean _was_ in pain, in aching, pleasurable agony as Cas pulled Dean backwards onto his dick while thrusting his hips at the same time, every now and then testing the limits that Dean could take but never, ever going too far, because despite the control and charge he was taking Dean trusted him enough to know he could never go as far to cause him actual pain.

Cas let go of Dean’s grasping hand to take hold of Dean’s madly flopping dick underneath him, hanging out of his panties, and start jerking it in time with his movements, sometimes doing the whole thing and something doing just the head in tiny motions, his hand going fast that it would be a blur if it were a cartoon, so fast that his hand was basically just vibrating over the head before sinking back down along the whole thing.

Dean wasn’t sure where the hell his orgasm came from in the end, whether it was caused by Cas hitting his prostate or Cas rubbing the sensitive glands under the head of his dick or both. He felt the build up and despite lasting a long, painfully long time, he didn’t want to let go because he didn’t want this to end but he had to let go because it was becoming painful to hold back ad he came all over the bed and Cas’s hand, still stroking him to get it all out as if milking a cow.

Cas let go of Dean’s dick when Dean was done coming and grabbed Dean’s other shoulder now and really began going for it, forcing himself in like he was trying to drill a hole in tarmac and he finally let his own pleasure take over which had been so, so hard to hold back. He felt like his insides were throbbing, and his outsides too as they were buried in Dean and something in him contracted and relaxed, and just before it did he pulled out, tore off the condom and came all over Dean’s still eager and very abused ass, the white stuff dripping down over the cheeks and over the hole too as Cas pulled the cheeks apart with one hand, the other on his dick in attempt to control some of where his spray went.

He managed to twist and fall back onto his back just before his knees gave out, and now that there was nothing holding him up Dean fell on his front, right onto his own jizz, his panties still on but down around the very tops of his thighs, covered front and back in come.

‘The bed,’ Dean said weakly as soon as he could talk.

‘There’s another bed,’ Cas replied. ‘We can … we can do it tomorrow. Deal with it. Not … not do it.’

Dean rolled onto his back and pulled his panties back up. He was still throbbing from orgasm, from being fucked into lightheadedness, from everything, from Cas, from having no control and from being happy to have that control taken away from him.

 _I love you_ , he screamed, because this was a whole new thing to love him for. _I love you, I love you, I love_

‘Your dick. Fuck, I love your dick. And your tongue. And your lips. And your stubble. And your hands. Fuck, you’re so hot. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.’

‘No,’ Castiel replied roughly, his throat dry, ‘you are. You’re so hot, Dean. I’ve wanted to do things like that, to put my mouth in all of those places … for a long time. I don’t know why I’ve wanted to put my mouth on you. But I have. And I did. And when you moan, and when you whimper, and even when you grunt … you’re so … you’re just so …’

‘Hot?’

‘ _Cute_.’

‘… Come again?’

‘At least give me time to reload first,’ Castiel joked.

‘Shut up,’ Dean huffed. ‘You know what I meant. Fucking cute? What the fuck?’

‘Your willingness,’ Castiel replied. He turned on his side, signaling Dean to do the same thing. ‘And when you protested against turning over. And the faces you made … your vulnerability and your trust. And how you’re just so … you’re so _big_ and _manly_ yet you just lay there and take everything as if you’re small and fragile and physically incapable of doing anything about it … and yet you’re not fragile at all. You’re just unwilling to do anything about it because you want it and it’s just … it’s just so … adorable. I adore you, Dean.’

Cas was rambling yet still out of breath and the breathy, desperate tone of his voice gave Dean yet another ache to add to all from the night, but this one was in his heart.

 _I adore you, Dean_ , Cas had said.

Adore.

 _Adore_.

Dean didn’t get it.

Dean adored _Cas_ – not the other way around.

Dean _loved_ Cas – _not the other way around_.

Right?

But … the signs … were all there. To make Dean think Cas’s statement was true. That he cared for Dean. That he _adored_ Dean. That maybe even he … was down on himself enough to even love him. Surely, nowhere near as much as Dean loved Cas, but some kind of way. A passing crush, some love getting tied up in the lust of their relationship, because for some reason Dean couldn’t figure out, Cas didn’t see Dean as he truly was; someone who made all the wrong moves and the mistakes of ten thousand normal people, someone who caused chaos and wreaked havoc wherever he went, someone who, in the end, everyone would inevitably leave.

It couldn’t be laid out so obviously before him, laid out that maybe Cas felt a fraction of what Dean felt for him.

Damn. Dean knew Cas didn’t much of himself despite his vain façade, but to think he thought _this little_ of himself to have this … this … _love thing_ for Dean.

Shit, man. He felt sorry for the guy. He hoped it would pass soon and Cas would see everything he truly deserved, even if it hurt Dean to think it, because that’s how much Dean loved Cas. He loved him enough to let him go and let him see what he really should love; someone good, someone decent, someone just like himself, Dean’s complete opposite.

He had to reply to Cas in some way.

Adore, adore. What could be deprived from adore. What other meaning could he take away.

Adore.

Adore.

Adore … able?

‘You’re adorable too,’ Dean replied, not exactly a smooth response, but a response at least, and Cas could think he just … misunderstood. Or maybe that’s how Cas had intended the word to be taken all along. Dean didn’t know. ‘Even though you _came_ on my _ass_.’

‘We couldn’t have you as the only one to be making a mess, could we?’ Castiel asked with a casual little shrug, falling back into a version of his usual self despite laying naked and glistening with sweat next to him.

‘Suppose not,’ Dean agreed. ‘Shit, man. We need to clean up.’

‘I would recommend that you shower,’ Castiel suggested. ‘I can get away with toilet paper. But you’re a mess, front and back.’

Dean feebly patted his come covered chest with his hand and then smeared that hand on Cas’s chest.

‘Okay, I can get away with a damp towel,’ Castiel corrected himself.

‘Payback,’ Dean muttered. ‘For my ass. Ugh, fuck.’

He’d pushed himself up into a sitting position, farther covering himself in sticky, drying jizz and farther dragging it on the sheets, too. He swiveled to the edge of the bed, his feet hitting the floor. Castiel groaned and did the same on his side, several steps ahead of Dean as he stepped into the bathroom.

Dean walked in behind him and peeled off his panties.

‘Are they salvageable?’ Castiel asked.

‘They’ll wash,’ Dean replied.

‘Disappointing,’ Castiel murmured. ‘I was hoping you could sleep in them tonight … but maybe it’s for the best. It was our last time just now so there’d really be no point.’

‘Yeah, no point at all,’ Dean replied, a little glum, setting up the shower as he stepped in, glancing through the clear door of it at the naked Cas by the sink wiping off his chest. A nice view.

‘Sofa bed,’ said Cas before he left, leaking Dean alone under the hot water to start scrubbing.

So Dean scrubbed. And he thought. And he thought again.

Cas. Adore. Maybe love. Crush. Whatever.

Cas. Had sex four times, officially, featuring a fifth as car quickie which didn’t he didn’t count in the official rules of their sex thing, right?

Cas. Kissed on a regular basis.

Cas. Cooked for.

Cas. Movie night.

Cas. Technically going on a date New Year’s Eve.

Cas. Fell asleep next to.

Cas. Woke up next to.

Cas. Fell asleep in his arms.

Cas. Woke up in his arms.

Cas. Joked with. Messed with. Purposefully pissed off. Teased.

Cas. Argued with but never meant it. Shared interests with. Read with.

Cas. Held hands with just for the sake of holding hands, in public, in private, around people they had to fool or around just themselves.

Cas. The man everyone in the building and the area surrounding knew Dean to be in a relationship with. Together.

‘Are we together?’ Dean asked as Cas wrapped his arms around him from behind as soon as he slipped into bed and turned his back to him.

‘You’re asking me?’ was Cas’s bemused reply.

Dean didn’t respond, closing his eyes, not caring what the answer was as long as he was here wrapped up in the arms of the man he loved.

Waking up had never been a particularly wanted experience for Dean yet these days he craved it; usually all he wanted was to get a few hours of dreaming about something he enjoyed in but in his waking days now, he got to have those dreams as a reality. Cas still holding him tightly, and so fucking cute in the morning light peeking in from under the curtains as Dean saw when he craftily turned over and pressed his lips lightly to Cas’s chin.

Castiel stirred but slept on. Dean wriggled himself out of Cas’s arms and started to make breakfast; it wasn’t Sunday but he didn’t give a fuck, they had to do laundry today to but that still didn’t make it fucking Sunday. But after last night’s efforts Cas fucking deserved some bacon and eggs, so that’s what he was going to fucking get, him in all his remarkable beauty sleeping soundly on that sofa bed.

Dean had been planning breakfast in bed for Cas, but Cas woke up before Dean had finished cooking and wandered over sleepily, his arms open to fling around Dean and settle himself into his chest while Dean continued one handed cooking, putting the other arm around Cas and kissing his head.

‘Morning, sunshine,’ Dean chuckled into Cas’s hair, ‘coffee?’

Dean gestured towards the full pot. Castiel let go.

‘Sunshine,’ he repeated in dull, tired tones. ‘I currently feel more like the moon. On a night where there is no moon.’

‘The moon’s shine is pretty too,’ Dean allowed.

‘It’s also nocturnal,’ said Cas, ‘which means it only comes out at night … which was a stupid thing to say when I’m trying to make the point that I still feel like it’s night and I should be asleep, I’m sorry. I’ll try again. At this point I feel more like an owl.’

‘Better,’ Dean encouraged. ‘You go, Hedwig.’

‘What’s a Hedwig?’

‘An owl from Harry Potter I only know about because of Charlie and my loser brother.’

‘Meaning?’

‘An owl from Harry Potter I remember because she’s pretty and white and I actually paid attention to Harry Potter when I watched it and I might’ve read the books once a long time ago. How’s the coffee?’

‘It tastes like the waters of the fountain of youth.’

‘Is there actually such a thing as the fountain of youth, by the way?’

‘Why? Are you attempting to get rid of some of those crinkles by your eyes?’

Any crinkles by Dean’s eyes that were there due to his smile fell away. Castiel smirked.

‘Dick,’ Dean muttered.

‘I was kidding,’ Castiel swore. ‘I like the crinkles by your eyes. You didn’t have them when we met. I think I like how you look more now than I did then. You look … more mature. Like you’ve aged well.’

‘Oh, so you’re saying I’m old now?’

‘Of course not,’ Castiel insisted, ‘I’m just saying … that you’re trying to blow everything I say way out of proportion to try and get me to dig myself into a hole. Aren’t you?’

‘I know one hole you managed to dig your way into last night,’ Dean replied with a naughty waggle of his eyebrows.

‘Believe me, I know you do.’

‘Grab yourself a plate, and get me one too.’

Castiel put down his coffee and followed the request without complaint, holding the plates as Dean slid their food onto them. He took them to the table, Dean not far behind with cutlery, Cas’s topped up coffee cup and a cup of coffee for himself.

‘So why the breakfast?’ Castiel asked, stabbing the fork Dean offered him right in. ‘It’s not Sunday.’

‘Who cares,’ Dean shrugged. ‘You’re pretty and I like you. You deserve a hot breakfast. This is the kind of thing you do in relationships, right?’

Oh yes. Dean had, in fact, decided that this was some form of relationship, albeit a temporary one.

‘I have absolutely no clue,’ Castiel replied, blissfully oblivious and seemingly accepting of the whole “relationship” thing. ‘You could have woken me by throwing a brick at my face and claimed it as a relationship thing and I wouldn’t know the difference.’

‘Tomorrow, then,’ Dean said with an approving nod. ‘We’ll go out and buy some bricks today. How does that sound?’

‘Spit on your neck, kick you in the crotch fantastic.’

‘I see you, Rachel Green.’

‘I thought you’d enjoy the reference.’

‘So. It’s New Year’s Eve.’

‘Is it?’

‘Yeah. Which means we’re going out somewhere tonight, remember?’

‘I remember.’

‘I mean, we may not be into the new year yet but I guess we’ve waited long enough laying low to actually start going out again.’

‘I guess we have,’ Castiel agreed.

‘So we should go shopping and buy a few things to celebrate tonight,’ Dean went on. ‘Some booze. Maybe a cake. Some poppers or something to blow off some streamers. Oh, and some condoms. Maybe some lube – how are we for it?’

‘Your bottle is almost empty. Mine is a little less than half full. We’ve mainly used yours.’

‘We should pick up another bottle just in case.’

‘That seems like a safe idea.’

They didn’t mention the fact that they were supposed to have just used up the condoms Dean had taken with him and that was that. They simply went on eating breakfast as if it were any other day.

‘I’m gonna do laundry,’ Dean decided when they reached the bedroom to get dressed, Cas on his way in to take a shower.

‘Don’t forget your panties,’ Castiel reminded him. ‘You let them in the bathroom.’

‘Toss them out to me.’

Dean had started stripping the still very messy bed before he got dressed. Castiel dipped into the bathroom and before he knew it Dean was catching panties so gooey they could have stuck to a wall. Dean grinned.

‘Thanks,’ he said, tossing them into the basket in the open closet, then catching the towel Cas had used to clean off last night. ‘Enjoy your shower.’

‘Enjoy your laundry,’ Castiel offered in response, stepping out another few steps to give Dean a quick kiss before vanishing off into the bathroom.

Dean finished with the bed and made sure he had everything he needed for laundry and got dressed, after which he left, planning to do the dishes later. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face the hallway where he promptly dropped the basket in shock at the black, sticky mess that lined it, with only patches of clean, shaped like letters going down in a line along the hall.

Y

O

U

D

I

S

G

U

S

T

M

E

C

A

S

T

I

E

L

Dean picked up his basket as soon as he’d read the words carved out of the black gunk, and he was very surprised no one else on the hallway was up yet. Not caring about his shoes, Dean trudged through the mess to continue on his way doing the laundry while pulling out his phone with his free hand to dial the number he’d dialed every time this bitch of a witch had destroyed their hallway in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this was my slowest update yet. But I had so much going on this week - but I managed to write and edit some while hanging out with family and drinking a lot of beer and a lot of vodka and a liiiitle whiskey. Even though my eyes hurt and really didn't want to focus on a screen. So there's that, my dedication, dedication to the gay.


	26. Oh, I Know

When Dean got back into the apartment he kicked off his shoes, closing the door behind him. The cleaning crew were already cleaning up the hallway and the repaired security camera footage was being checked but Dean doubted anything would be found.

Cas was still in the shower so Dean got to doing the dishes alone. He wondered if he should tell Cas about the message. He didn’t want to keep secrets from him, but he didn’t want to fuck up his day either. Maybe he could compromise with a half truth or something, he wouldn’t lie … just withhold some of the information. Because he loved Cas and he didn’t want to hurt him, especially not now he’d finally realized what the hell this was – a relationship.

They’d been pretty much dating for weeks and he hadn’t fucking figured it out. They went places together, they shared meals out together alternating in who paid (the fact that the money came from the same money source put aside) and they watched movies under blankets and they held hands and they wrapped their arms around each other and they had all these deep and meaningful conversations scattered throughout a flurry of ridiculous ones with a pinch of stupid and boring day-to-day domestic nonsense.

Going places together. Sharing meals. Physical affection.

Dating.

When they’d slept together that first time, Christmas, it … had just been their first time in the relationship they’d somehow accidentally developed over the course of December. Not just some meaningless hookup to relieve the tension.

And now they both knew what this was.

A relationship. Like, shit. Fuck. What the hell.

A relationship that Dean knew would end the second the case did if he didn’t sort out his shit and get his actual feelings, all of them and their reasons, out there – the feelings that would permanently cement that relationship right into reality.

But that … he couldn’t do.

It was going to kill him when this temporary thing ended. But as for Cas, Cas would get over it. Cas would move on and realize he was an idiot for even thinking about Dean in that way – the most idiotic thing Cas had ever done. Love Dean.

Part of Dean wished Cas would say the words, therefore Dean wouldn’t have a choice in saying them back. But the rational part of him hoped Cas could keep it all in until he got over it.

When Cas sauntered out into the room with damp hair and smelling like freshly applied deodorant, Dean knew one thing for certain. Cas may eventually get over Dean, but when it came to Cas Dean was fucked, his legs automatically carrying him towards that bright eyed glorious creature, his hands cupping his face and his lips finding his lips, something that was natural to him now but still impossible to think about; the fact that he got to kiss Cas and hold Cas and be with Cas for however long more.

‘You taste like mouthwash,’ Dean muttered.

Really dumb thing to say. Still, he’d said worse.

‘Well I just brushed my teeth,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Is the laundry in the washing machine?’

‘Yeah, it is,’ Dean confirmed, taking Cas by the hand and pulling him towards the sink so Dean could finish off drying the last few dishes he’d washed. ‘But I need to tell you something and it’s not pleasant so just try to keep in mind the good stuff like us going out tonight and it being a whole new year and all. Can you do that?’

‘I can try,’ Castiel promised. ‘Did the witch do something?’

‘Covered the hall in crap with “YOU DISGUST ME” scraped out of it.’

‘She seems charming.’

‘So are you okay?’

‘It’s just another message,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘It’s nothing new. It’s not like we didn’t already know that what goes on in this building disgusts her. In fact, it even disgusts _me_ a little. Last night I licked a human asshole and not even for the first time. And to be fair, outside of the moment or the mindset, that is a little disgusting.’

‘Don’t insult my asshole,’ Dean said disapprovingly, ‘but I’m glad you’re making light of the situation.’

‘I’m having a good few days,’ Castiel replied coolly. ‘I’m not going to let an uneducated witch ruin that.’

‘You still haven’t apologized for insulting my asshole.’

‘It’s an asshole, Dean. It can’t comprehend insults.’

‘Yes it can.’

‘Well in that case, it’ll get over it.’

Dean flung the dish towel at Cas’s face and walked away. Castiel put it neatly back in its place before following him and plopping down on the sofa next to him, pressing right up against his side immediately and throwing his arm over his shoulders, Dean wedging his arm between the sofa and Cas’s back in return.

‘So,’ Dean began with a sigh, ‘how should we go about this witch thing when it comes down to it, anyway?’

 They fell into a conversation that went basically nowhere. It all inevitably came down to continuing what they were doing and just waiting for the thing to attack, while keeping an eye out when they walked through the building and even through the streets outdoors. They touched on searching for her, but they’d already searched the walls and she was crafty in her hiding. They’d seen her around the building dozens of times, but as soon as they’d found out she was the witch she’d vanished as if off the face of the Earth, only her messages left behind.

Just to be ready, they decided to prepare the witch killing bullets as they talked, and hopefully they’d be close to them when the bitch – uh, witch – next reared her ugly but actually very pretty head.

They talked about summoning her, as they walked down to transfer the laundry from the washer to the dryer together (despite it only being a one person job,) but they didn’t know anything about her and hadn’t even seen her use hex bags, more like upfront magic spells, so they couldn’t root out one of her own bags to use to in a summoning spell.

‘So basically we’re saying yet again there’s nothing we can do,’ Dean stated, pulling his panties out of the washing machine last with an annoyed sigh.

‘Pretty much,’ Castiel agreed.

‘Shit, man,’ Dean said with an irritated sigh. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s just … frustrating.’

‘You’ve said that three times during the course of this conversation,’ Castiel stated, reminding him.

‘Whatever,’ Dean muttered. ‘Come on. Let’s … get some of that shopping done. You go wait by the car and I’ll bring down your jacket and stuff. This should be dry by the time we get back.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel nodded. ‘I’ll meet you there.’

Dean kissed Cas quickly though unnecessarily as they left the laundry room together, walked back up the hallway together and they parted with a wave at the elevator which Cas was taking to the parking lot, Dean deciding to take the stairs so he didn’t have to wait for the elevator to return.

The parking lot had very little life in it when Cas got there. A car was driving out of it, and another was just parking, the person a stranger and heading quickly to the elevator without looking around. Cas leaned against the side of Impala as he waited for Dean, Dean who he was now somehow in a relationship with, and that had never been Cas’s intention.

Cas had intended to suffer and pine in silence, and suffer in silence more than pine in silence upon figuring out Dean’s feelings for him. He had never intended to … to … well … he hadn’t actually done anything.

Cas hadn’t revealed how he felt. And as for Dean, he didn’t seem to remember his late night, half-way-to-sleep slip-up he’d murmured at Cas. So technically nothing had gone wrong. Everything was still going according to plan.

They were just in a relationship now, for however long it lasted.

Castiel presumed it would end the second the witch was dead. Because that was when they would leave the building, and they would no longer have to pretend to be together, so they would no longer be together in reality either.

So what did this make them, then? Friends who were in a relationship? Uh … relationfriends? Or even, dare he think it … boyfriends?

Surely not. That was a word … they could only ever use about the false relationship. Not about the real one, just to each other.

They were just … together.

 _That_ way.

End of story.

The word Cas had heard used around was “dating” and he guessed many of their outings to museums and sites and places to eat could be considered as such. Most of those had started in December, with a few little visits to other things towards the end of November, almost like a prequel, building up to the actual matter of it all …

Tonight was definitely a date.

Tonight where they would go out and eat somewhere together, pre-suggested, pre-offered, pre-accepted.

Cas knew that for sure. This was a date. This was no misunderstanding like the babysitting thing had been with Nora.

‘Hey,’ Dean greeted once he was a few feet away, raising his hand and tossing the keys over which Cas caught easily and unlocked the car, climbing in.

Dean got in his side when he reached it and handed Cas his jacket and his phone (phone for just in case they got separated, which sometimes happened if they went to two different parts of the store, or had some kind of ridiculous argument and Cas stalked off to hang around the aisle with the pork rinds and wait there for Dean to find him, eating a bag they had yet to pay for.) Cas shrugged into his jacket and belted up while Dean started the car.

‘I figured we could drive around and look for places to go tonight,’ Dean relayed conversationally. ‘It’s New Year’s Eve. Places fill up fast. We could find a place and go and see if they’re booked or not and ask them to save us a table.’

Cas knew the usual term was “make a reservation” but that sounded too … formal. _Too_ date-like despite that being what this was. A real date. With Dean. A date, with Dean.

‘Logical,’ Castiel commented.                                                                                                         

‘That’s me,’ Dean agreed, ‘known for my logic.’

‘No, you’re known for your rash decisions and stupidity and your “shoot first, ask questions later” attitude.’

‘Yeah, well, careful or you’ll become known for being a dick.’

‘I’m known for being the one in the trench coat that no one seems to see as a real threat due to my frequent misunderstanding of certain references or terms used that I’m unfamiliar with,’ Castiel corrected. ‘You’re the only one I’m a dick to. I’m not about to become known for it.’

‘Cas, people see you as a threat,’ Dean disapproved.

‘Not a _serious_ one, though,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘More of an attack dog, I’ve noticed.’

‘Attack dogs are fucking scary, man,’ Dean pointed out. ‘Have you ever been attacked by one? You wanna run. Fast. They’ll bite your ankles and ankle-cuts aren’t fun.’

‘I haven’t, actually,’ Castiel mused. ‘Maybe I’ll attack myself and bite my own ankles sometime to experience it.’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Dean muttered, rolling his eyes and sensing the sarcasm and seeing the playful glint in Cas’s eyes.

Although it did hurt to find out Cas didn’t think people took him seriously. That wasn’t a fun activity for him; finding out more and more ways Cas thought down on himself.

The grocery store wasn’t very busy and their time there was uneventful. No arguments, no stalking off, no separating and they got everything they needed. It was a little weird, but Dean had never been prouder about buying condoms and lube and almost wanted to showcase to let everyone know that he and the really hot guy trailing beside him and eating unpaid for gummy worms were fucking.

But of course he didn’t do that because that would be weird.

Cas walked with his arm linked through Dean’s, Dean carrying the basket in his other hand. In the hand he’d got looped through Dean’s arm he carried the open gummy words packet and he was using the other hand to put them in his mouth to chew on as they made their way around the store, picking up anything they liked the look of for their celebration tonight, which they were celebrating with the streamer poppers they managed to get that Dean had been unsure or not about if they’d be able to find them.

Once they got to the car after they’d finished, they shared the last few gummy worms as they drove around. Dean headed towards Sunset Blvd. figuring there’d be a few nice places there, and one of them caught their eye by its name “The Church Key” and they went to investigate and found out there were some tables available for that night, so they got one for seven and then returned to the car, going home to put away everything they’d bought and grab the dry laundry, followed by the horrific task of fixing up the bed and the covers.

When all of that was done they had lunch; Dean made a light pasta dish with cream cheese and red and green peppers and he and Cas licked the dish the cream cheese and peppers were mixed in once it was empty, fingers battling to swipe up the biggest smears left on the side, resulting in Dean getting pissed at Cas and wiping some cream cheese on his nose.

‘Fuck you,’ Castiel snapped. ‘Get it off of me, Dean.’

So Dean licked it off and was shoved away by an unamused Cas, but it didn’t bother him and he continued adorably grinning and laughing at Cas as he wiped Dean’s spit from his nose.

They managed to survive the rest of lunch without destroying each others’ clothing or skin, but doing the dishes caused some minor splashing from Cas when Dean made a bad sexual innuendo about innuendos which would have worked better if he was a top because “in _your_ endo,” though fucking stupid, was better than “in _my_ endo.”

‘I’ll never put anything in you again if you keep making stupid jokes,’ Castiel snapped after he splashed Dean.

‘But we just bought condoms,’ Dean replied with a huge, fake sad face and a quivering lip.

‘Well, then you can put one on,’ Castiel said pleasantly, ‘and go fuck _yourself_.’

‘If I was more versatile I would,’ Dean said proudly, falling out of that pride as he said, ‘but I’m not. I’m just a big old bottom. I need you, Cas. Please.’

‘Maybe if you buy me dinner first,’ Castiel considered.

‘Yes. Of course. Done. Tonight, remember?’

‘I know. That’s what I was referencing.’

‘I thought you were just being fussy.’

‘That too.’   

‘So, I buy you dinner, and then you put it in my end-o.’

This time, Cas stabbed Dean in the leg with a fork, dropped the fork and walked away to let Dean finish the dishes on his own. Dean continued doing the dishes, laughing at his own stupid joke and at Cas’s dramatic reaction to it.

When Dean had finished the dishes, he walked over to where Cas had gone to sit on the sofa, reading and ignoring Dean when he sat next to him, continuing to ignore him when he leaned heavily on his shoulder, their faces so close Dean was practically breathing right in Cas’s ear.

After a moment, Castiel swatted Dean away as if he were an annoying fly buzzing around his head. Dean briefly leaned away but leaned back in again as soon as Cas’s hand returned to his book, so he got back into position only to be swatted away again, so Dean readjusted his position and instead of leaning on Cas’s shoulder with both hands he rested his chin on it instead.

When Cas continued to ignore him, Dean started with a stream of verbal pleas for attention.

‘Cas,’ Dean said flatly.

Cas turned the page he had just finished readjusted himself to get more comfortable, and ignored Dean.

‘ _Cas_ ,’ Dean repeated, moaning the name in frustration.

Cas moved his shoulders, flexing them a little, relaxing the muscles, Dean’s head moving with the shoulder it was on.

‘ _Castiel_ ,’ Dean stated.

Cas did nothing.

‘Penis,’ said Dean. ‘Penis, penis, penis, penis, penis with a cherry on top. Hockey puck, rattlesnake, monkey, monkey, underpants. Ignore everything from hockey puck onwards, it’s a TV show reference you wouldn’t get.’

Cas turned another page, undistracted by Dean’s ridiculousness.

‘I’ve got herpes. I’ve got chlamydia. I’ve got syphilis. Oh no, the condom broke and now I’m pregnant and it’s yours. Hello? Cas? Hello, is it me you’re looking for? Don’t tell Sam I just referenced a Lionel Richie song. Or the TV show the “monkey, monkey underpants” thing is from. Y’know, me and Sam had the opportunity to see the set of that show once but he made us get off the tour bus and go work on the case. Haunted movie studio, it was nasty. Ghosts could only be seen on camera. I can’t even remember how many years ago it was. I think it was maybe two years after me and Sam started working together again. We could have met some of the cast, too. The tour lady said so. Hey, why don’t we ever get to work normal cases with ghosts anymore? Like this one You and me came here for a ghost. We got a witch but that’s pretty normal in comparison to what we usually have going on. Woah, hey, do you think –’

‘Oh. My. _God_ who may or may not hate me depending on your opinion,’ Castiel said slowly, slamming his book shut and yanking his shoulder out from under Dean’s chin. ‘Do you _ever …_ shut _… up_?’

‘Occasionally,’ Dean mused. ‘Why, am I annoying you?’

‘Oh, of _course_ not,’ Castiel said sarcastically. ‘I’m enjoying you listing off your STDs and informing me of your pregnancy. I had no idea that you had a uterus. And as for why you never work cases with ghosts anymore – it’s because things have gotten much more dire in recent years than they used to be. There, I responded to you. Are you happy now?’

‘I’m not _un_ happy,’ Dean said thoughtfully. ‘I’d be happier knowing that you were paying child support for our baby.’

‘I have no money.’

‘I’ll give you money.’

‘Technically you’d be paying, then. And in any fact, you’re not pregnant.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘You’re a man.’

‘Some men have vaginas and uteruses and the works.’

‘I’ve _seen_ your works,’ Castiel replied very specifically, ‘I’ve been _inside_ your “works” to put it in pleasant terms. You’re biologically male and at this stage in human development it’s impossible for people born biologically male to get pregnant.’

Dean gave Cas a long, hard stare. Castiel looked simply bored.

‘I don’t like you anymore,’ Dean decided, standing up and walking off towards the TV. ‘Coming at me with your _facts_. I’m going to spend some quality time with my _real_ friends … on Friends.’

‘Technically we’re not friends,’ Castiel pointed out. ‘We’re in a relationship, Dean.’

‘Doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends,’ Dean shrugged, setting up the DVD. ‘Frankly I think the best relationships come from being friends first. Best friends, if you’re lucky. Like you and me.’

Castiel smiled, softening, when he remembered that Dean considered him his best friend, and that thought on Cas’s mind wasn’t one-sided. Finally, something non-one-sided they could both admit, not that it hadn’t been admitted before. Still, somehow now … it meant more.

And if relationships that sprouted between two people who were best friends … did that give this one hope? Could it actually last?

 _Don’t be ridiculous_ , Castiel snapped at himself. _You’re not good enough for Dean and you never will be._

So Cas’s smile was short lived, although his heart and manor remained soft and when Dean sat back down next to him he grabbed his hand and held it just because, and Dean rested his head against Cas’s, and all was well.

They watched a few episodes but didn’t stay in one solid position, and every two episodes so as not to become TV addicted zombies they took a break for a few card games of a very one sided game of Chess although Cas was still improving; it was just hard to beat someone who had learned how to play years ago when all you had was a few days of experience actually playing, despite all the previous years of observing.

‘It just proves the point that you can’t learn everything from watching,’ Dean grinned encouragingly at Cas’s disappointed defeat.

‘But I was an angel,’ Castiel stated. ‘As an angel I could solve almost any problem that needed intellect. Even now I can read and learn much faster than the average or even above average human. It’s likely that I could solve a series of highly complex mathematic equations faster than the person who wrote them. Why can’t I beat an annoying man with an annoying smirk and annoying beauty at an annoying game created by what were likely annoying humans?’

‘Feeling annoyed?’ Dean presumed.

‘Yes, and it’s annoying.’

‘Look, Cas,’ Dean said, resting a hand on Cas’s shoulder, ‘you’re smart, I know. Probably a genius. A little clueless about references and jokes and slang and all that, but you’re smart. But in this game you have to think, calculate and _use_ those smarts.’

‘I _am_.’

‘Sorry to say it pal, but you’re not.’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘No, man, listen,’ Dean sighed. He moved a few of the pieces on the board back a few moves for each of them. ‘Look. You have to look at every single one of your pieces, and every single one of mine, and figure out where they all can move and what the best moves are. Then you think ahead – where do you go from there, and where do I go from there? If there seems like there could be a possibility for a lot of moves where all your pieces are still safe, make those moves. But if you move your queen over here, my knight could get there in two moves, so don’t do it. Move your king here, because in three moves my queen can take it if you don’t and you’re probably not giving your king as much attention because you think it’s safe over on it’s starting square because some of your other pieces are around it. You have to choose your moves and your sacrifices, plan every possible move any of our pieces could make two or three moves in advance, and do the same for every move.’

Castiel looked at the board, and began to do exactly what Dean had said he should do. He looked at each piece and moved it in his mind which was harder than it seemed, keeping track of mental moves and spaces, but he got it for each one, and then he decided to make a move, not the same move as he’d made the last time the pieces were in this position.

Dean raised his eyebrows, and made his own move.

‘How come it takes me so long to make the calculations and you make your move faster than I do?’ Castiel asked curiously.

‘Years of practice and my own strategy,’ Dean replied. ‘But in the end it doesn’t matter how long you take to move unless you’re on a timer. Now, you go.’

So Castiel sat, went through the slow mental process, and then made his move.

Dean still ended up winning the game, but Cas had been a fighting contender in the end, possibly even becoming faster at making his moves by the end.

Although he hadn’t won, Cas was very satisfied with himself when they relaxed back into the sofa to watch another episode of Friends. It was almost as if he could feel the pride radiating from Dean’s arm around his shoulders.

Through their next breaks, Cas started to improve at Chess. Though the games lasted longer, they were far more evenly matched, and though Dean still won most of them, Cas won some, too, and he was very proud of himself and his own self pride seemed to make Dean happy, because Dean was smiling at him and looking at him like he was the only thing on the Earth he ever wanted to see ever again, and he kissed him like he was the only thing he wanted his lips to ever come in contact with.

Cas liked this being in a relationship with Dean thing. And he liked making Dean happy and proud and he liked making him want to kiss him for his achievements and just because.

When five came around, they decided to have a light snack of sandwiches and some coffee since it had been hours since lunch and they were hungry, but they didn’t want to fill up before they went out. After their sandwiches, they decided to play around with some ping pong with music on in the background and they had their usual ping pong related games with ball bouncing and so on, always ending up in sabotage and mischief and competitiveness, competitiveness which Cas very much bought into and he ended up making Dean back up until he hit the table and was forced to climb onto it in a sitting position so Cas could get between his legs, grab his thighs and start kissing him because that’s just the mood they were in and what it led to.

They ended up on the sofa, horizontal, Cas hovering between Dean’s legs, having a heated make out session which ended abruptly when they fell to the floor, the sofa evidentially not big enough for making out on in that position, being only a two seater and not all that wide.

‘ _Mothing fucking shit_ ,’ Dean hissed. ‘My ass is _broken_ now. _Fuck_.’

‘I’m fine,’ Castiel said lightly, smirking. ‘Thank you for breaking my fall.’

‘Fuck off,’ Dean muttered, getting up and pulling Cas with him.

‘No, really,’ Castiel pressed on, ‘it was really kind of you to fall flat on your ass like that so I could land squarely on top of you. Thank you.’

‘Blow me, Cas,’ Dean stated.

‘If you insist,’ said Cas.

‘Wha–’

But Dean didn’t finish his word because Cas’s hands were on his belt and he was walking Dean back into a sitting position on the sofa while pulling his jeans down to mid-thigh, and then Cas was on his knees on the floor between Dean’s legs and had taken Dean into his mouth, the sheer thought of what Cas was doing already starting to get Dean hard.

Cas still wasn’t an expert at this particular trade, but the few brushes he’d had with it had been successful and pleasurable, and this was no different although this time it had a twist – this time, Cas was going to suck until Dean came.

Cas took hints from his internet searches, and from the time Dean had given him a complete blowjob, and he used one hand to jerk what he couldn’t take into his mouth and the other to rub on Dean’s balls, getting experimental with it, giving them a few pulls and tugs and seeing what got a response out of Dean.

Dean gave a few words of request here and there, but mostly let Cas find his own ground. He ran his fingers through Cas’s hair as Cas’s head moved slowly up and down and when Cas’s tongue hit just the right places he briefly thought about cutting it off and framing it, but if he cut Cas’s tongue off, how would he ever get this from him again?

Things were wet and sticky and stringy and Cas was really going all out, and every time he came up for a better gasp of air he played around a little, not just sucking the whole thing monotonically, but running his tongue up and down it, right up to the balls … it was when Cas actually put Dean’s balls _in his mouth_ that Dean decided he’d better start making plans for his own funeral because holy fucking shit, Castiel, angel of the lord, was here with Dean’s balls in his mouth sucking on them while jerking him off and then he was licking back up from the balls to underneath he head and then he swallowed him again, going farther and more daring each time he did up to the point where Dean was genuinely worried he was going to choke.

There were strings of spit and pre-come on Cas’s chin which Dean wiped off, but Cas didn’t seem to care about them and barely paid Dean any attention at all, besides the obvious part he was paying attention to. Dean felt the slow build throughout which sped up when Cas sped up, and when Cas slowed down again and went _really_ slow focusing on a part that he’d seemed to have discovered was extremely sensitive for Dean … the build came in a rush that felt like it would explode, and Cas could sense it, too, and locked eyes with Dean at last, giving a smirk that should be illegal before rubbing the back of his tongue over the sensitive part.

Cas took Dean into his mouth again just before the explosion finally released and came right down Cas’s throat. Cas had a little trouble at first, but managed to swallow with barely a drop escaping.

Castiel was swallowing Dean’s jizz.

The thought alone would have given Dean multiple orgasms if he was able to have them, he was sure of it.

And then Cas was up, just like that, off to the sink to wash his hands, wipe his mouth with a damp piece of tissue and get a drink of water to wash everything down and clean out his mouth, while Dean was just left there on the sofa, sticky and wet and gasping, gaping at how casual Cas was acting.

Shit, if Cas had done that every time Dean had said “blow me” to him in the past, Dean would have died of a heart attack multiple times by now.

It took Dean a minute to get to his feet and shuffle towards the bedroom with his pants falling around his legs. Castiel followed him with swaying, easy steps and leaned against the door frame of the bathroom when Dean went in to clean himself off.

‘I think we should chance before we go out,’ Castiel commented lightly. ‘It didn’t seem like the type of place to show up to wearing just jeans and a shirt. What do you think?’

Dean blinked at him. Seriously? This was all he had to say? Cas’s face yielded nothing, so Dean had no choice but to reply.

‘Yeah, probably,’ Dean nodded. ‘Maybe we should wear those clothes from that photoshoot we did but without the glasses. Or is that a little too formal?’

‘Maybe,’ Castiel considered.

‘Without the ties too, then?’

‘Better, from what I’ve seen. There doesn’t appear to be a dress code but it still seems implied that being under or overdressed wouldn’t be desirable.’

‘Then get out the clothes,’ Dean instructed. ‘And, uh … don’t bother waiting for me. I want to … wash up a little.’

Castiel nodded, doing as Dean requested and leaving as soon as he’d changed, Dean in the bathroom with the door closed.

Cas played some candy crush while waiting for Dean and he wasn’t waiting long. When he looked up at Dean entering the room, Dean had a little glint in his eye. But besides the glint Dean wasn’t acting any differently, so Castiel didn’t mention it as Dean checked the time.

‘Six thirty,’ he stated. ‘Should we go?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel nodded, getting to his feet, his feet taking him right over to Dean and his hand reaching out to run down Dean’s chest almost beyond his control because holy shit Cas had greatly underappreciated how Dean looked in a buttoned up shirt and smart jacket before.

‘Or we could leave in five minutes,’ Dean suggested.

‘That works too,’ Castiel shrugged.

It was almost as if they couldn’t take their hands off each other, the two idiots that they were. They were like Monica and Chandler in London; their relationship exclusive to their location (well, it may not have worked out that way for Monica and Chandler but still) and their relationship in its beginnings extremely physical; although unlike the one it was being compared to, their relationship contained affection. A well as sliding his hands over Dean’s ass in those pants, he brushed his fingers across Dean’s cheekbone because he was pretty and their faces were so close together, and they were awake, both of them, at the same time, not just one staring at the other’s sleeping form up close and admiring everything they saw …

‘Freckles,’ Castiel whispered.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing.’

Cas kissed Dean close to his eye, a little between eye and nose, where a strong dusting of freckles were mapped out across the skin. And then he moved back to the lips, his hands exploring Dean’s lower back over and then under his jacket, sliding a little below the belt of Dean’s pants at the

mother fuck fuck mother fuckity fuuckity shit

Dean smirked as Cas pulled away, the glint in his eyes back.

Panties. Fucking. Panties.

‘So that’s what you were doing,’ Castiel murmured, feeling the fabric beneath his fingers.

‘Stalling to put these on,’ Dean nodded, his smirk deliciously evil. ‘I didn’t know you’d find out so soon, but I’m glad you did.’

‘So am I,’ Castiel grinned, matching Dean’s expression.

‘Wearing panties under smart clothes in a nice place,’ Dean relayed with a false little sigh that tickled Cas’s face like a coffee-scented warm breeze. ‘Tabboo, isn’t it? Almost a little … _naughty_.’

The evilest evil in all the land. As evil as the most psychotic psychopath, eyes full of desire and wickedness, almost glowing. Castiel squeezed, grinding their bodies together, putting his lips on Dean’s neck above his collar and close to his jaw, sucking almost like he was about to give him a hickey like the one he’d given him on their first panty adventure, which was lower down and hidden by his clothing.

‘Do we have to go?’ Castiel asked, lips grazing Dean’s neck with every word.

‘I’m afraid so,’ said Dean. ‘Because I’m hungry.’

He coaxed Cas’s head away, took hold of his hands and slid them out of his pants and then took a step back away from him.

‘Eat later.’

‘Nah, see, we have a table waiting for us, so …’

‘But –’

‘Midnight,’ Dean promised. ‘Midnight, and you can do whatever you want.’

Dean began to walk away, leaving Cas pining after him. Castiel followed him towards the door and then out of it when he caught up, the two of them leaving with their hands glued together.

The building was more alive than usual. There was noise coming from Piper and Dani’s door, and a lot of footsteps coming from floors above and below. They ended up sharing the elevator with another couple who looked to be going on a date, and then Cas realized he’d just referred to he and Dean as a “couple” inside his head and a thrill of panic mingled with excitement jolted throughout his body because that’s what he and Dean were.

A _couple_.

A couple going on a date.

On New Year’s Eve.

A couple going on a date on New Year’s Eve.

No biggie.

Just casually strolling through the parking lot holding hands, getting in the car and separating and then holding hands again as they entered the place they’d chosen to eat at and being shown to the table reserved for them.

The table reserved for them on their date, where they ordered good dishes and no alcohol because they had beer at home, and cake and other things too, so they weren’t going to get any desert.

‘This is weird,’ Dean said awkwardly, looking at Cas across the table as they ate. ‘I just …  I don’t _do_ this. I’m not used to … _this_.’

‘You eat at diners most of the time and when in the presence of someone you’re planning to have sex with later you’re usually in a bar and getting drunk. Correct?’

‘Exactly,’ Dean agreed.

‘If it makes you feel any better, I don’t do this either,’ Castiel replied. ‘But you know that. Obviously.’

‘Obviously,’ Dean agreed with a small laugh. ‘You thought you would be once, though.’

‘True,’ Castiel reasoned. ‘With Nora. Look how well that turned out.’

Dean chuckled.

‘Shit show,’ he stated.

‘A complete one,’ Cas nodded. ‘Although, in the end … I’m glad it wasn’t what I thought it was … and I’m glad this is.’

‘Me too,’ Dean said, his tone so warm it was like he was speaking in chocolate melted on a stove, his words, though just said in his usual voice, like velvet; hitting Cas’s ears and mind and heart like his fingers stroking against the softest or smoothest surface, like Dean’s skin, probably not as soft as actual velvet, or even their fluffy blanket or the carpet in their bedroom, but it was better, in so many more ways than one.

Dean’s hand was casually resting on the table. Cas reached out and grabbed it. His eyes reached out for Dean like the tentacles of a sea monster grabbing onto a ship it was attacking, and they grabbed him only to be held in return, and then his heart started crawling its way up his esophagus despite that being biologically possible (maybe it drilled a hole in the side to climb in and up?) and his eyes were both glistening wet and bone dry all at once.

‘I love you, you know.’

Dean put down the fork that had been stabbing at his food and leaned back a little in his chair, expression unchanging.

‘Oh, I know,’ Dean replied factually.

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, I do. I can’t figure out why the hell you do, but I know you do.’

Castiel was … thrown.

‘You love me,’ he stated, following up.

‘Yeah,’ Dean repeated. ‘I do.’

‘And I can’t figure out why either, but I know you do.’

‘Then we have that in common,’ Dean said simply, slipping his hand out from under Cas’s and picking up his knife and fork again.

Castiel coped him. Oddly enough, he felt a sense of relief, but it was small; it wasn’t like a huge weight had been lifted on him, but the pressure had shifted slightly into a different position, alleviating the pressure in some places but applying it in others. Nothing drastic had happened, nothing drastic good or bad, just an exchange of information between two people who already knew both sides of the story.

It wasn’t shocking.

‘We have a lot of things in common,’ Cas said casually.

‘We do,’ Dean agreed. ‘We’ve established that more than once, haven’t we?’

‘We have,’ Cas nodded. He looked at Dean across from him. Dean who loved him, who knew he knew that. Dean he loved, who knew that too. ‘And that’s why we’re so good together. As friends. Or more.’

‘Best friends?’

‘Yes.’

‘Or more?’

‘Yes.’

‘I like that we can agree on this.’

‘So do I.’

They smiled at each other, small, timid smiles, then soon broke out into laughter, and then more progressive laughter that died down as they got back to their food wanting to eat it before it went cold.

The meal passed more easily after their little admission and acceptance and they began to do that thing they’d done before, with the making up a life and back story and future for the people they saw, which got more and more ridiculous as it went on.

‘Dean, no one would name their child Darth Vader,’ Castiel said disapprovingly while Dean tried not to burst out in laughter about the fact that it was a Star Wars reference and Cas had no idea.

‘Yes they would!’ Dean insisted. ‘Anyway. His name is Darth Vader, and he has twin kids, Luke and Leia. They accidentally kissed once and it was weird but now Leia and this dude named Han Solo are together. Oh, and one time, Luke was taught … martial arts … from a … uh, a talking frog.’

Castiel squinted suspiciously.

‘Are you describing the plot to something?’

‘… No?’

‘Dean.’

‘Okay, okay, fine. That was Star Wars. Here’s the reality: His name is Snivillus Skankybreath and he prints fake cash in his basement which he sells for real cash. He gets a real dollar for every two fake ones he sells and he eats nothing but raw cow’s brains and drinks nothing but weak coffee seasoned with black pepper. He has a collection of eight different cloaks, one for every day of the week and an alternate, all in varying shades of black. He uses his own skin grease to wash his dishes and the water in his house comes out think and brown. Happy now?’

‘No one would name their child Snivillus Skanybreath.’

‘ _I_ would.’

‘Then I feel sorry for anyone you end up having children with.’

‘Yeah, me too. Hey, do the guy that just walked in.’

‘The one with the forked beard?’

‘Yeah, him.’

‘Fine, let’s see …’

So Cas upped his game and went completely wild on the beard guy, and things just began to spiral more and more out of control and they were adding on to each others’ stories and it was the most ridiculous thing in the world but the most fun thing in the world too at that moment, and then when they paid, and as they walked out to the car they started doing their sever and the whole thing got so complex and ridiculous that they didn’t finish until they got home, somehow having given him twelve dogs and twelve cats, all with names, specific breeds and specific appearances, along with a talking parrot and a pet pigeon and four goats with names and backstories of their own.

‘Are you sure there was no alcohol in the drinks we ordered?’ Castiel asked when they realized how overboard they’d gotten.

‘I’m sure, but maybe the food was laced with weed,’ Dean suggested. ‘I’m one of the few people who can say they’ve never been high, but I’m pretty sure this is the kind of nonsense high people spew.’

‘Then you really shouldn’t have driven.’

‘Hey man, I only crashed four times and ran seven people down. Give me a break.’

‘One of those people was the president of the United States.’

‘So? I’ll be the president now.’

‘Aren’t you still wanted in multiple states for multiple crimes?’ Castiel asked. ‘Or are you dead or something? I remember you told me about it when you were telling me about odd cases you and Sam have worked a few weeks ago when we went to that diner with the gross food.’

‘Wanted, dead, doesn’t matter,’ Dean shrugged. ‘Free pie and no taxes sound good to you?’

‘Not really,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘You like pie more than I do and I don’t pay taxes.’

‘Okay, then, free pie, pork rinds and no taxes, and I’ll make you my vice president.’

‘What about Sam?’

‘Isn’t he president of Canada already? I heard they’re pretty into moose up there.’

Castiel laughed, leaning into Dean’s shoulder as they stood in the kitchen and Dean got out the cake and the beers and other snacks and their two poppers which they’d take to the table just to be set for midnight despite it being four and a half hours away, a solid four and a half hours to spend eating cake out of the box and drinking beer and playing the same four board games and the same few card games over and over, taking random breaks in the middle of the games to start talking about something completely unrelated to anything, each conversation weirder than the last going from ‘why do they call it Scrabble?’ to ‘why don’t people in other countries have kitchen sinks that can destroy stuff?’

They changed into their night things an hour after getting home, and at ten they put Friends on in the background of their game playing and the weird conversations sprouted from things that happened in the show which they paused frequently so they could talk without missing anything. Subjects went from Ross’s hair gel obsession to Monica’s cleanliness thing, and Cas compared how Dean liked to be clean and organized in his living space to how Monica liked to be clean, so Dean shoved a pawn up each of Cas’s nostrils which Cas then removed and tried to put in Dean’s mouth and one of them actually made its way past Dean’s lips so he spit it out and then in the same second kissed Cas ferociously to piss him off and get Cas’s own damn nostril junk in Cas’s own damn mouth.

They stopped Friends and turned on the TV around eleven thirty, to a show counting down to the New Year. They barely paid attention and used it mostly as an indication of the time as they played a game of Scrabble and Dean somehow managed to make the words “gay” and “sex” almost right next to each other, both going down vertically out of the word “geese”.

‘You’re cheating,’ Castiel declared.

‘No,’ Dean corrected, ‘fate’s just on our side tonight. That bitch who tried to kill me and Sam when Balthasar fucked up the Titanic knows what’s up.’

Castiel shoved him. Dean grinned, quirky. Cas decided to step up his game, but lost because of the stupid letters on the board not working right for him at all.

Five minutes before midnight they put the games away and began waiting for the time to hit. They went oddly quiet, knowing that they were about to spend the moment the year changed together and that everything on the other side of midnight was going to be …

… the exact same as it was before midnight, if they were honest.

There was no huge change. They weren’t sure why they’d momentarily expected one.

The change there was didn’t come from the new year, it had already been there and it was what allowed them to kiss, Dean finally caring about the person he kissed for the new year, and Cas kissing someone for the new year for the first time, the two of them pulling their poppers when they came apart and streamers raining down around them as they turned off the TV and came together again, slow, passionate, and then quickly heating up because Castiel remembered what Dean had said before they’d gone out that night:

At midnight, they could do whatever Cas wanted.

Cas pulled Dean onto his lap so that Dean was straddling him and he began to run his hands under his faded t-shirt and over the toned muscles of Dean’s chest and the slightly less toned but no less glorious ones of his abdomen, making quick work of getting that shirt to the ground. Cas’s shirt soon joined it, and Dean’s pants so that he was on top of Cas in just panties which his dick was sticking out of the side of, pressed against his own thigh, stiff and being stroked by Cas, Dean’s back arching with his arms around Cas’s neck …

Cas stood up and used one hand to support Dean, Dean supporting himself the rest of the way by wrapping his arms and legs around Cas tightly. Cas shoved down his sweats and sat down naked under Dean again, who began rubbing his ass against Cas’s dick at once, rocking, his own dick still sticking out of his panties but he’d readjusted things so that it was coming out over the waistband as he climbed off and went to grab the lube and a condom, bringing them back over to Cas so Cas pull Dean’s panties down, lube up his fingers and get down to digging them inside Dean, curling them up without having to search for the right spot, it having quickly become second nature.

When Dean was ready and Cas was ready, Dean began riding Cas on the couch for the second time, only this time he intended for them not to be interrupted by a surprise visitor at the door. Dean bounced, using Cas’s shoulders to hold onto, dick rubbing on Cas’s stomach dry with magnificent friction.

Dean was sure he imagined the thump outside in the hallway. He started to ride harder as he felt the pressure start to lead to orgasm.

He wasn’t so sure he imagined the second thump, especially not when Cas’s head turned weakly towards the sound too.

Neither one of them imagined the scream, which came at the worst time; Dean felt warmth inside him and Cas’s eyes suddenly screwed shut as he spilled inside the condom inside Dean and Dean kept bouncing wanting desperately to climb off but he couldn’t, he literally couldn’t, it’s like his legs were paralyzed and all he could do was move up and down with his hips and ass until he came all over Cas’s stomach a moment later, their orgasm’s so close together it was like something seen in a porno, and then Dean climbed off and  fell to the floor, grabbing the sweats he’d been wearing and pulling them on while pulling up his panties as he raced towards the door without a shirt, Cas close behind him, condom thrown to the floor with a splat and sweats being pulled up dashing legs as they flung themselves out into the hallway to come face to face with the witch an her current victim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yuhgwmasfiuhU I'M SO SORRY IT'S BEEN LIKE A WEEK BUT IT'S BEEN AN INSANE WEEK AND I FOUND OUT SOME PRETTY SHOCKING NEWS AND I HAD HOSPITAL APPOINTMENTS AND LAST NIGHT I WENT TO A TRUMP PROTEST SO I'VE BEEN VERY VERY V ERY BUSY AND I FEEL GUILTY AND LIKE 5K OF THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN TODAY BECAUSE TODAY I WAS FINALLY FREE!!!!!!
> 
> Also, some news. 
> 
> I've decided to drag up and old fic I deleted off the internet because I didn't like it and I'm going to modify and rewrite an reupload each chapter and actually finish the fic. It's called Destiel: The Only Exception. 
> 
> Meanwhile, I've finally gotten myself out of the "ugh, I don't want to write this right now" mood I was in with my other fic, Run, thanks to a dog and I'm hoping to increase updates in that.
> 
> AND.
> 
> I'm starting two more fics I got the idea for tonight, both AUS:
> 
> Little Specs of White - a Destiel AU that starts in elementary school and goes throughout their lives into adulthood.
> 
> What We Want - a Destiel AU where they're single parents and meet and some shit goes down. 
> 
> So if you want to check those out you should check up on my Twitter (MurderousQueenR) and/or Tumblr (MurderousQueen) or just check my page here on AO3. I know AUs aren't for everyone and I actually hate most I come across because they're just not my thing, but every now and then I come across a good one. 
> 
> Anyway. I thought I'd just let any regular readers know. Adios mis amores. Stay strong and stay gay.


	27. Shut Up Sammy

The thumps had been two bodies, Piper and Dani, thrown roughly against the floor. And the scream was Dalia, choking in mid-air. The witch was standing there, smiling, looking serene, and she was crying black goo, black goo was dripping out of her ears, out of the corners of her mouth, out of the surface of her skin. She didn’t try to stop Dean or Cas as they dashed back inside to grab a loaded gun each, bullets filled with witch killing potion which they both pointed at her and began shooting, and shooting, and shooting.

There were holes in her dress and holes in her body that oozed black, and she looked as though she might be decaying, but still she did not die. She did drop Dalia, who fell to her knees gasping for breath, who Cas ran to to help out while Dean took both guns and began storming towards the witch, shooting every last bullet right into her, stomach, heart, head. Each wound oozed black and then began to heal, although her skin did begin to look flakey like rotting fish scales.

When he got close enough, she grabbed Dean’s wrist and flung him with considerable strength and he flew through the open door of Piper and Dani’s apartment which those two in turn had been thrown out of, hitting the wall across from it and sliding to the floor.

Dean knew the witch had made a mistake, now, because she couldn’t enter the apartment, not with the hex bag hidden in the plant which Dean could see on the worktop as he began to scramble to his feet.

 _Wrong_.

She stepped over the threshold and strolled right over to Dean who she grabbed in a vice-like grip. Cas dashed into the apartment, top half bare and still smeared with drying come, only to be thrown and pinned roughly against the wall.

‘I knew he would come if I hurt you,’ the witch said delicately. ‘I knew you both would come if I began to hurt the ones you know. The perky, tall freak. Those rotten excuses for men who dress as women. The annoying baker and her corrupt friends. But you, it’s you Castiel will always come to. I’ve been watching. And you’re coming with _me_.’

Cas was pinned against the wall as Dean was knocked out by a single touch and dragged away. When Dean was out of sight, Cas fell to the floor and though his knees hit the ground hard and were aching, Cas ran desperately after the witch, but was she even a witch? as she dragged Dean up one flight of stairs and then to the elevator and got it as it began to descend to the tenth floor. Cas took the stars, running as fast as his legs would go, crashing and clanging and pushing past the people who had awoken and come out at all the commotion, taking two, three steps at a time to find the tenth floor completely empty, the elevator too.

‘Dean,’ Cas called desperately. _‘Dean_. DEAN!’

He dashed along both sides, but there was no response. He continued to call out, screaming, screams echoing through the building and he felt like he was trapped in a maze though it was just the same simple floor plan and people were coming out of their apartments but he didn’t care; he pushed past the queens as they came out asking what was wrong, he pushed past the strangers, he even dashed past Hasdiel when he came along looking confused because Cas didn’t have time for former angels right now.

‘She took Dean,’ Cas kept saying manically, as more and more people came from other floors to the see the crazy man on the tenth. ‘She took Dean to the elevator and now he’s gone.’

‘Four,’ said a voice behind him, and he turned to see Lexi the Supernatural fan, ‘Two, six, two, ten, five, ten. You have to go from the lobby. _Go_.’

Four. Two. Six. Two. Ten. Five. Ten. It was the floor pattern from that elevator ritual. It made absolutely no sense, yet it made sense in the same; the girl from the elevator ritual got on at the fifth floor, and she accompanied the ritual do-er to the tenth.

The crazed creature that had Dean had ran up the stairs to the fifth floor dragging Dean like a rag doll, and she had taken the elevator to the tenth.

Castiel bolted into the elevator to take it to the lobby, repeatedly jabbing at the button to make it go faster despite knowing it wouldn’t do anything. He wanted to scream, he wanted to claw his way up the elevator shaft because it would be faster than the speed at which the elevator went from floor to floor doing the stupid ritual that didn’t make sense and wouldn’t work and when it finally reached the last stop on the tenth floor he flew out and holy shit it actually worked.

It was dark and red and hot and out of the windows there were burning crosses in the sky, covered in rotting corpses. The floor was covered in rotting black goo, and Cas was completely alone. He dashed through the hallways and burst into apartments, all empty, until he entered the apartment that in the real world was owned by the drag queens, in this one still looked the exact same as it did in the real one, but without Christmas decorations and _with_ a vile creature standing by Dean who was tied to a chair.

The door slammed shut behind Castiel. The lighting was red.

‘Castiel,’ the vile creature said delicately. ‘At long last. My name is Gaidrel.’

Gaidrel was a familiar name. Castiel had heard of the three banished angels, two of which unknown to humans; Gadreel, who had let the snake into the Garden of Eden, Gadriel, twin to Gadreel, who had once tried to claim himself a God and then Gaidrel, who hated humanity almost as much as Lucifer did. Castiel had never known what had happened to Gadriel or Gaidrel, all he knew was that they were gone before they made a lasting enough impact to make it into the Bible or even into whispers of any religion man followed.

‘You’re an angel,’ Castiel stated.

‘Yes.’

‘Your vessel is rotting.’

‘Yes.’

‘You fell.’

‘No.’

Dean was beginning to awaken. Castiel looked at him and dashed over to him, Gaidrel not stopping him. When Castiel touched the ropes that bound him, they burned, flaming like the crosses hanging in the sky outside.

‘No?’

‘I was banished here, Castiel,’ Gaidrel explained, ‘when our father discovered my hated of human kind. My brother Gadriel was banished similarly, into another world like this, where he is to be alone with other banished creatures and play games with humans stupid enough to try out the rituals to summon him. He is often known as the Hooded Man, who drives a black cab through another world and takes humans on a journey until they tell him to stop. However, he is _not_ the Hooded Man, but a passenger that often gets in with the human passengers and tries to convince them of his Godly state and trick them into entering an alternate reality in which he will improve and collectively ruin their lives. However what I do, is … a little different.’

What the fuck was this crazy bitch talking about? Castiel looked at Dean, awake now, silent and looking pleadingly at Cas. Castiel kneeled by him, holding his hand but not daring to touch the burning rope again.

‘What do you do?’ Castiel asked, only because he knew that’s what Gaidrel wanted to hear.

‘I dwell in this lone dimension and visit those who do the elevator ritual and attack those who do it wrong,’ Gaidrel shrugged. ‘If they do it in pairs, or they look at or talk to me. I let them think they’ve made it back into their world by creating a veiled version of it around them, but inevitably I show up and kill them. Just for fun, usually, until quite recently.’

What the fuck?

‘You see, someone in this building did the ritual after, apparently, some people she knows made some kind of … picture … about my ritual, and about one of the victims I killed by the name of Elisa Lam. Killing her was quite fun. I left her body in a water tank. I based it on a picture I’d heard humans talking about set in Japan. It was quite fitting given the race of my vessel despite me actually originally finding this vessel in Korea.’

The Elevator Ritual. The movie based on it. Lexi, Kat and Evan.

‘Evan did the ritual,’ Castiel realized. She had been the first.

‘Yes,’ Gaidrel confirmed. ‘It was the first time someone had done the ritual since the event during which the angels fell, and as soon as I stepped out into this world on the fifth floor I sensed their presence throughout the land and my vessel’s innards began to decay and excrete its rot. The presence of the angels made my vessel weak, a regular vessel I’m inhabiting rather than my actual self as it became when I first took it. So, naturally, I had to spook the one who had done my ritual and then step out into the world to see what the situation was.’

‘And start killing people,’ Castiel stated.

‘Naturally,’ Gaidrel commented. ‘As soon as I stepped into the world I was overwhelmed with the thoughts and opinions of humanity, and I soon discovered what was going on in this building and that humanity had deemed it wrong and sinful. And since God is my father, and yours, I had to do his work and take care of the sinful behavior.’

‘That’s bullshit,’ said Dean, talking for the first time. ‘God doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass about what these people get up to, Cas told me.’

‘That’s true,’ Gaidrel reasoned, ‘but humanity deems it sinful, and humanity serves God. God wants us to serve humanity, and so I do so and in turn serve the version of God they have created, getting rid of the filth. And then _you_ showed up, Castiel.’

‘You’re bat shit fucking crazy,’ said Dean.

‘God must loathe you,’ Gaidrel told Cas, ignoring Dean.

‘No,’ Castiel said proudly. ‘He doesn’t. God doesn’t care. It’s the delusions of humanity that brought about that mindset.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Gaidrel replied with a cocked eyebrow.

‘I’m pretty certain,’ Castiel nodded, ‘and even so, if God did have the mindset, he would be wrong.’

‘You would call your own father wrong?’

‘Yes,’ Castiel said decidedly. ‘Freewill is more important than obeying someone none of us have even met. Forming our own opinions is more important than following someone else’s.’

‘Why are you so up God’s ass anyway?’ Dean asked. ‘Didn’t you say he banished you?’

‘Yes, but he’s still my father,’ Gaidrel justified. ‘You have to obey your father.’

‘Bullshit,’ Dean snapped. ‘Listen lady – and I use that term loosely – I thought like that once. I did everything my dad told me to and it took years after he died for me to realize half of it was fucking wrong. You don’t have to live like that.’

‘Don’t tell me anything to do with my father is _wrong_ ,’ Gaidrel hissed. _‘This_ is wrong. You are wrong. What goes on in this building is wrong. Those little friends I attacked to get to your attention were wrong. Men dressing up as women. Men _living_ as women.’

‘Men dressing up as women is a high form of entertainment,’ Castiel justified, ‘and those “men” living as women _are_ women.’

‘Cas, she’s been living in her own world for God knows how fucking long. She’s dumb as shit. This entire situation is dumb as shit. I’m tied to a chair by a crazy ass angel who sounds like some regular dick strolling in off the street and spewing rubbish. It’s almost funny how dumb she is.’

‘You’re dumb,’ Gaidrel retorted childishly.

Castiel looked from Dean to Gaidrel. He looked around the room with its red light and thought of the outside with its burning crosses covered in corpses. And then he looked at Gaidrel’s overly angry expression, and it started to seem funny. She _was_ just another dick, any old dick with those opinions, and she was so wrong it was practically funny.

Suddenly the lighting began to change, and the darkness lifted, and they were just sitting in a normal apartment. The ropes on Dean’s wrists stopped flaming, and Cas was able untie them. Gaidrel looked very phased by this turn of events.

‘You’re stupid,’ Castiel told Gaidrel.

‘You’re disgusting,’ Gaidrel snapped. ‘Who’s ever heard of a gay angel? It’s sickening.’

‘I’m not an angel,’ Castiel corrected. ‘Not right now, at least. And even if it was it’s not about what I am. It’s about who I am. Dean made me realize that.’

‘Well … he’s stupid,’ Gaidrel said weakly.

Her eyes started to leak black goo again.

‘Dean is the most intelligent man I’ve ever known,’ Castiel said while looking at Dean, Dean looking back at him. ‘And you reflect the opinions of the most ignorant people there were on this earth. Dean, let’s leave. We can just … come back later and kill her or find her in the walls she’s been hiding out in and bugging people.’

‘There’s an angel blade in the trunk of my car,’ Dean agreed, heading towards the door with Cas. ‘Man, I can’t believe the thing we’ve been hunting isn’t even scary. It’s just an idiot.’

‘And petty, too,’ Castiel agreed. ‘Brainwashed.’

‘Dumb as shit,’ said Dean.

‘No,’ said Gaidrel. ‘No, you can’t leave.’

The evil ghost, witch, angel, who had seemed so intimidating at first now just seemed like a weak little girl with her skin falling off and black goo oozing out of her, dripping down her face from her hairline.

‘Bye, bitch,’ Dean offered sweetly, throwing his arm around Cas as he left.

Then Castiel stopped.

‘How did you recognize me, anyway?’ he asked.

‘Your grace may be gone but your vessel contains traces that allows angels to identify you,’ Gaidrel shrugged, sheepish, then fiercely added, ‘you faggy cock-sucking freak.’

‘Okay,’ Castiel said flatly, ‘bye.’

‘ _No_ ,’ Gaidrel hissed.

She tried to follow them out of the door but as she lunged forward she tripped on her torn dress and fell forward. When she tried to stand up, her body began to crumble and burst, turning to the rotting black excrement of her decay.

‘NO!’ she screamed. ‘NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!’

She was screaming until she was nothing but a rotting black pool of mush on the floor.

‘That was weird,’ Dean stated.

‘Extremely,’ Castiel agreed.

‘So, wash up a little, grab a snack then go to bed? We’ve got a long drive ahead of us tomorrow.’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ Castiel agreed, taking hold of Dean’s hand as they headed for the elevator, Dean’s arm having dropped from around him when they’d turned back to face the ugly gloop dirtying the carpet in the hallway.

By the time they did the reverse of the ritual, they were laughing about it.

‘It was so anti-climatic!’ Dean complained. ‘I was expecting some epic boss battle. But she melted like the fucking Wicked Witch of the West.’

‘Except she was an angel,’ Castiel added. ‘That, I didn’t expect.’

‘Neither did I,’ Dean agreed. ‘Aw, man. This is gonna be a sucky story to tell Sam when I get back to him. Mind if I say it was a witch, she pinned the guy I was hunting with against a wall and me next to him, but I still managed to shoot her while she monologued about how straight people are gonna take over the world?’

‘Tell him whatever you want,’ Castiel shrugged. He knew how it was. He knew Dean would never tell Sam the truth. ‘Hype it up. Make it into such a big deal that it’s as if you killed Hitler or something.’

‘Oh, man,’ Dean mused. ‘Killing Hitler would be _awesome_. Grilled cheese?’

‘With extra cheese,’ Castiel requested as they entered their apartment.

It was as if nothing had even happened and their conversation took them through a meal and some time washing up in the bathroom – they shared some laugher about Cas taking on a homophobic angel bitch with a chest covered in come. When they went to bed they went quiet, and didn’t talk much when they went to sleep.

They knew it was really over when Castiel stepped out of the bedroom that morning in a trench coat and suit.

‘I don’t want to go,’ Castiel said quietly.

‘Neither do I,’ said Dean.

But they had to, so they packed their bags.

They took snacks for the road and they took their equipment and weapons. Dean packed up his stuff and Cas packed up his; some things to sleep in, his spare trench coat outfit, his toiletries, his books and three of the pictures from the mantle, from the days he and Dean got to spend as boyfriends who were writers and the supernatural horrors they faced were just fiction. The rest of the photo booth pictures from the fridge, and the magnet that held them there.

Dean left with everything he came with, and Cas left with more, yet next to nothing.

But they both left with sinking feelings.

They left their furniture. The unfinished season of Friends they’d rented. They would never get to finish the show. They left all of Cas’s clothes. They left their lives, they left their case, and they left without saying goodbye so they wouldn’t have to explain where they were going or what the hell last night had been.

They left, driving away from the city, and they didn’t stop for more than rest stops until they had to stop for the night in a motel where they shared a bed and held each other all night, barely sleeping, unspeaking.

They arrived in Kansas the following evening, at another motel, likely the first of many Cas would stay in. Dean gave him money and Dean went with him into his room, and they had pizza and sat next to each other on the bed.

‘So what are you going to do now?’ Dean asked Cas, who looked glum, far more glum than he’d seen him in a while; he looked like he had before the case had even started.

‘Watch the news,’ Castiel shrugged. ‘Monitor happenings that could be hints at something bigger happening. Get back … to the main issue at hand. The angels. Go to crime scenes I think might be important. You use fake names in reference to music artists, right?’

‘Right,’ Dean agreed. ‘Got any names in mind?’

Castiel frowned. He cast his mind to the radio, the radio that often played back when he was an assistant store manager.

‘Beyoncé?’

Dean almost choked on his pizza.

That was his Cas.

That was _his_ Cas.

‘Good for you, Agent Beyoncé,’ Dean said encouragingly while secretly hoping Cas never used that name.

‘You could stay the night,’ Castiel offered suddenly.

They’d already decided it was best of Dean just drive the extra two hours to the bunker tonight. Just two hours. Cas would be so close, yet so far, and they’d already decided it best if Cas move around little, never stay in the same motel, maybe not even the same state, for too long.

Dean was losing him, but he’d already had to come to terms with that.

Temporary, temporary, it was all just temporary. It had always been just temporary.

‘I can’t,’ Dean said quietly. His voice almost broke.

‘I understand,’ Castiel nodded.

Before he left that night, Dean did a few final things for Cas. He gave him money. He found out the numbers of the best food places around. He even stole him a car. And then he kissed him goodbye before he drove off, kissed him, but he wanted to cry.

And as for Cas …

He was okay with that. Because Dean would be back in a week, wouldn’t he? To drop off more money. To visit. To never be like it was, ever again. But just because it seemed like one second they were together on a sofa, happy and in love and connected in more ways than one, and suddenly Cas was here alone in a motel, it didn’t mean things were over between he and Dean, right? They’d said “I love you.”

This couldn’t be it.

But every week, Dean became more distant.

And then when they finally got to work another case together, and he and Sam and Dean got drinks and Dean had slyly muttered to Sam that Cas was drunk as if Cas couldn’t still hear as he walked away to the bar, just because Cas was trying to act like it was all okay, like he and Dean were still happy an flirty and together … and then when Sam left Dean had said that they had to keep their distance. For Sam. Of course, Dean cared about Sam. But why couldn’t Sam and Cas keep teir distance, but Dean and Cas keep …

That’s when Cas knew it was truly over.

As for Dean, he knew it the second he left Cas at that motel.

For a little over a month, Dean had been happy.

For a little over a month, Dean had been free.

No one knew him. He was around strangers. And now he was driving back into the deep end, back to someone who did know him and could judge that freedom freely as he would, back to someone he had to keep his walls up around, and so he built them up stronger than ever and he wasn’t going to let them fall down in front of anyone lest Sam find out exactly how things had been since Dean had left for that case.

It seemed, however, that Sam already knew when he greeted Dean with a ‘hey, Robert.’

Dean looked at Kevin and pointed a finger at him.

‘You’re dead.’

‘I didn’t say anything!’ Kevin defended himself, throwing up his hands.

‘Then how did you know?’ Dean demanded of Sam.

‘First of all, it was obvious,’ Sam replied, ‘and second of all, do you remember those pictures you sent me when you first moved into that building?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Come here.’

Dean walked forward and sat next to Sam at the long table in the bunker and Sam pulled out his phone. He went through the pictures and pulled up the picture Dean had sent of their living area, of their mirror, and reflected in the mirror was the TV.

Reflected in the TV and therefore in the mirror was a tiny sliver of Cas’s face as Cas sat on the sofa.

‘I’m going to bed,’ Dean decided gruffly, ignoring the fact that Sam knew because he didn’t want to deal with it right now. ‘We can talk about this in the morning.’

‘So how was pretending to be Cas’s boyfriend?’ Sam asked teasingly, following Dean as he tried to go off towards his room.

‘Shut up, Sammy,’ Dean grumbled.

‘Did you have to hold his hand?’ Sam cooed.

‘Shut up, Sam.’

‘Hey, can I see your tattoo of the thing from The Exorcist that covers your three nipples?’

‘Shut up, Samuel.’

‘How about those toes? Can I see them?’

‘Goodnight, Sam.’

‘So he was on top, huh?’ Sam called through the door Dean had slammed in his face.

Dean heard Sam giggling to himself as he walked away. Dean wondered what the angel dude possessing Sam thought.

Dean pulled out his special box of pictures and sentimental things and in it that he kept hidden and he placed the pictures of him and Cas and he sealed it shut without going through it. He had to put it behind him, because the case was over and so was his thing with Cas.

It had been nice while it lasted, but he had to move on.

When he hugged his pillow that night, he wished it was Cas.

When he brought Cas money over the following weeks, he wished Cas was his pillow.

When he had to ask Cas to take a step back, he wanted to die, and not in the good way that Cas usually caused.

In the end, really, they’d achieved nothing. Dean had broken Cas out of his shell, and then Dean had put Cas back into his shell, and on the other side of the case all they really had was some pictures, and Cas had a box set of books he kept in the trunk of his car. They had no relationship, made no mention of their feelings or admissions, never got to finish Friends and had never gotten to play another game of Chess despite them close to becoming evenly matched. They never got to finish the pasta with cream cheese still in their fridge in the old apartment, they never got to say goodbye to anyone they’d met, not even the Supernatural fans, or the drag queens, or Piper and Dani, or Dalia.

Cas had never gotten to say goodbye to Hasdiel, the former angel who had the life Cas could have had if he and Dean sucked it up and got more than just casual “I love you”s out on the table.

Dean never got to give Cas a real goodbye, and tell him he was sorry for how things had ended.

It was completely unsatisfactory, just like the ending of the case had been, and it was ironically laughable because it was ridiculous that they’d actually thought they’d have some big happy ending, or at least if the ending wasn’t happy they’d thought they’d get some closure.

Things just ended, went back to the way they were and that was that. The promises Dean made still stood, but who knew how long it would be before Cas could come stay, and who knew if Cas still even believed them.

Sam remained none the wiser of the truth of what had gone on despite knowing Dean had been with Cas, and Dean was okay with that because weeks, months later, it all began to seem like a distant dream.

New things reared their ugly heads as time went on, the Mark of Cain and killing Abaddon and Cas stealing grace and Dean being killed by Metatron, becoming a demon and then struggling to get rid of the mark. Kevin died, Charlie died, countless innocents died. They released and got rid of a Darkness on the world, Mary came back from the fucking dead, Lucifer roamed the place freely after finally getting out of Cas’s ass, and everything basically fell to fucking shit the second Dean and Cas left that apartment in West Hollywood.

Nothing was okay and everything fucking sucked and it wasn’t fair, but they got over it because days and weeks and months and years passed and that’s just what they fucking had to do.

Yet sometimes at night, when Dean had to sleep or Cas had to wander alone wherever he was, those days came back to them as if in a distant dream as they tried to figure out what to do next in their destroyed ruins they called lives.

In conclusion, there was no conclusion, and all they could do was await the day Dean and Cas finally admitted their feelings to each other to prove they were real, remained and weren’t going to go away no matter how much shit the universe threw at them. And that was the end of the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I play this unsatisfactory ending from the very start? Yes. Am I sorry? Oh how I wish I was, but my heart is cold and blackened. 
> 
> Thank you for suffering through this with me. If you want to read my other fics, here they are:  
> Run - http://archiveofourown.org/works/5425811/chapters/12536978  
> Little Specs of White - http://archiveofourown.org/works/8530918/chapters/19555951  
> What We Want - http://archiveofourown.org/works/8536264/chapters/19569460


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